#being aware of your flaws is great but don’t beat yourself up over them let people enjoy your art!

[itadorisgf]

— a fall from grace

aka break up headcanons

⤷ anonymous asked: hi! what if u wrote angst headcanons on how megumi or itadori would react to breaking up with y/n? like what do u think would make them break up in the first place😳. anyways i hope u have a good rest of ur day!!💗💗

note: oooo angst, i hope i did your suggestion justice and that this was angsty enough!! i hope you have a lovely day as well <33333

ft. fushiguro megumi, gojo satoru, itadori yuuji, nanami kento, nobara kugisaki

warning: angst

⤷ main page

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

reason: bad at communicating

fushiguro has never been good at expressing his feelings.

he cares for you, he really does, but he’s always felt that it’s unneeded for him to show that.

you should just know that he does. if he didn’t love you then why would he be dating you?

if he didn’t want you then why would he bother to be in a relationship with you?

he doesn’t understand that it feels like he just doesn’t care about your relationship at times.

nor does he understand that sometimes you need reassurance that he does indeed care about you.

it’s hard when he’s not very affectionate and he tends to be short and dry when conversing.

and that’s just who fushiguro is. it’s a natural part of his personality to not exactly be open with his emotions and feelings.

so you break up with him. it’s not that you don’t love fushiguro, you do, but you can’t be in a relationship where you continuously question whether or not he actually wants to be with you.

fushiguro becomes more reserved and closed off following your break up.

his friends would playfully ask him why he’s being more emo than usual, but when fushiguro doesn’t respond at all, they understand that it’s serious.

he wonders if he was more expressive and open with how he felt about you, would you still be here?

GOJO SATORU

reason: too flippant

the fact that gojo’s deemed the most powerful shaman there is by others has made his ego grow exponentially.

he’s well aware of how many view him, as some sort of celebrity, and he revels in the praise and adoration that they shower him with.

gojo’s cheeky and will indulge those who admire him by playfully flirting back with them when they come onto him.

and when you bring up your concerns about how you’re not necessarily comfortable with how gojo interacts with his admirers, he brushes you off.

tells you that you’re the only one for him and that he doesn’t mean anything by flirting with them. it’s harmless.

and it may be true that they don’t matter to gojo, but the way he so easily sweeps your feelings to the side hurts.

you try one last time to explain how you feel to gojo, emphasizing that the way he disregards your worries upsets you.

and once again, gojo addresses the discussion in a very lighthearted and casual way that makes it feel like he’s downplaying how you feel.

when you break up with him, he thinks you’re joking. when you make it clear to gojo that you’re not joking and that you’re entirely serious, he just says okay and leaves.

he thinks you’re overreacting, and in need of some time to cool down. he assures himself that when he comes home later, you’ll be waiting for him.

but, you’re not. all your belongings are cleared from your shared apartment, and that’s when gojo realizes how much he’s utterly fucked up.

however, gojo is too prideful to admit that he’s messed up. he continues on like normal, flirting even more heavily with his fans, but he doesn’t care for any of them.

how could he when none of them are you?

ITADORI YUUJI

reason: too caring

itadori’s heart is simply too big.

you love that he’s so willing to help others and that he cares deeply for his friends, but you can’t stand the way that he holds little to no value for his own life.

he’s willing to throw himself head first into a fight in order to protect others.

itadori has a strong sense of duty as sukuna’s vessel. he knows that there are some things that only he can do as sukuna’s vessel that other sorcerers can’t, and who was he to turn his back on those in need when he could help them?

you try to convince him to care a little more about himself and itadori assures you he’ll be more cautious, but he continues to put himself in danger, often resulting in him getting injured.

and you love itadori too much to watch him throw his life away.

when you break up with him, itadori is confused. he thought things were going great between you two.

you tell him that you love him, but you can’t just sit and wonder if one day he isn’t going to come back from an exorcism.

you can’t stand seeing him bleeding and battered when he returns from missions.

you’ve already lost him once, you won’t be around to lose him again.

breaking up with itadori hurts both of you, but you have to do this. so you kiss him one last time, whispering an i love you against his lips and say goodbye.

itadori is heartbroken after you break up with him, but he tries to cover it up.

he’s still his regular cheery self, but it’s not as genuine.

fushiguro and nanami can tell that something’s off with him, but neither of them press itadori to tell them what’s wrong.

itadori is still in love you, but he has a duty to fulfill and he’ll see it through until the end.

NANAMI KENTO

reason: blunt

nanami doesn’t believe in sugar coating things or beating around the bush. he doesn’t see the point in it. he believes it’s important to be truthful and direct.

so he can be rather calloused and inconsiderate at times, even insensitive.

with his tone, he even sounds accusatory when you’ve done nothing wrong.

it’s humiliating. the way he lectures you as if you’re a child rather than an equal.

nanami’s tone is frightening, calm and even, but you can feel the anger radiating off of him. his words are cold as he berates you for needlessly putting your life at risk during a joint mission.

he goes so far as to say “you should have known that you were too weak to face that curse alone.”

and maybe it’s true, but you can’t stand the way that nanami talks down to you. it’s not the first time it’s happened either.

and you’ve had enough of it.

you break up with him and all nanami does is coolly reply that you’re acting irrationally and immaturely.

nanami’s frustrated that you’re unable to understand how he’s concerned for your well-being. you shouldn’t have attempted to face a cursed being of that level by yourself and you could’ve easily gotten yourself killed.

the aftermath of your breakup is messy.

you’re both sorcerers, but you avoid nanami to the best of your ability, partnering up with others for assigned missions.

on the outside, nanami seems to be completely unaffected by the breakup.

but behind his goggles, his eyes are more tired than usual and his patience with gojo has thinned even more so, causing him to easily snap at the man.

nanami doesn’t mind overtime as much as he once did.

he loathes how a quiet apartment is the only thing waiting for him when he gets off of work.

so he picks up more missions just to avoid the loneliness that awaits him.

NOBARA KUGISAKI

reason: impulsive

nobara often speaks without thinking beforehand.

she tends to say whatever comes to her mind, sometimes disregarding how others may feel.

you love the way that she speaks her mind, bold and totally unafraid of whoever she’s talking to. in fact, you even admire it.

but when you get into fights, nobara doesn’t hold back. she says anything and everything that comes to mind.

most of the stuff she says, she doesn’t mean. she just gets so frustrated and worked up that it just all comes spewing out in the heat of the moment.

but her thoughtlessness cuts deep and opens wounds you’ve worked hard to heal.

it’s during one of your fights that nobara lets it slip “god why am i even dating you?”

all the fight is drained out of you once you hear that. you don’t want to argue with her anymore so you tell her that she doesn’t need to worry about this relationship anymore because it’s over now, and walk out.

nobara’s reaction time is delayed, sputtering as she processes what you’ve said.

when she gathers her bearings and runs out the door, you’re already gone.

nobara would talk about your breakup with whoever’s around to listen. she neglects to mention that you’re the one to have broken up with her and rants about all of your flaws and why you weren’t a good s/o.

but when nobara’s alone, she misses you terribly and wishes that she could take back what she said.

as she lies in bed, she replays all of the things she spat at you in fits of anger.

she didn’t mean any of it.

she loved you, and still does.

[fireflyinsummer]

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

> warnings: hints of smut (heavy make out), a scene of harassment (nothing explicit), violence. possible heresy. forgive me. a third party’s unrequited feelings for OC. don’t know if i did this right, it’s 3 am right now.

> summary: When it comes to the both of you, a lifetime is not enough. And when it comes to you, there’s really no lines he wouldn’t be willing to cross. Even on the brink of a war that could destroy the world as we know it, you’re everything.

  “ (...) ‘Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?’ he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

   ‘I’ve never had to,’ you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you.”

a/n: my love for Paradise Lost gave birth to this. i really like this one :) gonna be posting the second (and last) part soon! no need to say that PL was just an inspiration, this isn’t exactly based on the poem. 

                                               “(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.”

     The sudden thud on the wooden surface of the table made you jolt and close the book, heart rate increasing considerably.

  “Y/N.” His voice was deep, dragging your name through his teeth to evince his annoyance. The bustling café was already at its peak hours and you didn’t even notice the time as it passed you by.

  “Yes, Taehyung?” You ogled your grumpy friend, his noisy arrival being due to the study material he tossed in front of you.

  “You said you’d help me with English lit. I was waiting for you at the library for about an hour and your phone is off.” As you remembered why you were even in the café in the first place, you threw him a guilty look. He pouted. “Hey, what does that Milton guy have that I don’t? And the fancy words don’t count.” You giggled.

  “John Milton has nothing on you, Tae. He’d probably need my help to get through this semester as well.” The joke seemed to almost let you in his good graces again, but you knew he still needed the bribery. “I’ll buy you your favorite if you forgive me.” You could tell he was fighting back a smile upon hearing your offer, his mood suddenly uplifted.

  “Okay. But don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. Wait here.” You went to the balcony to pay the check and get his frappuccino to go. Taehyung was a sweet guy who liked sweet things, and that also applied to his coffee. His sweet tooth earned him a nickname from you – Marzipan. Waiting for the bartender to finish your order, you looked over where your best friend was digging through your copy of Paradise Lost without much enthusiasm.

   You had moved in next door to his house about fifteen years ago, and you two instantly initiated a solid friendship. As much as you could say about three-year-olds. Despite him being one of your favorite people in the whole world, the both of you were into totally different things. He went to parties, you enjoyed some lone quality time. He played all sorts of sports, you preferred to stick to your writing and, sometimes, the piano. You were still working on the latter. But even though you seemed to be totally opposites, he still got you like no one else could. He was the person you told all your secrets to, not that you had that many anyway, and you liked to think – no, you were sure of it – he felt the same way about you.

  “Here’s your overly-sweet drink, Marzipan. I don’t even know if you can still call it coffee,” you scowled.

  “Don’t diss my frappuccino, it’s the sole reason of my forgiveness.”

  “Yeah, right. So, you wanna get going? I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts on that book already.”

  “It was very average so far, if I do say so myself. I don’t know why you like it so much,” he teased you.

  “Well, that’s what the private lessons are for. So I can teach you good taste.” You pushed the door open and immediately shivered as you felt a cold gush of air. It was snowing.

  “Here, take my coat. Why don’t you ever wear decent clothes in the winter? I swear to God, I don’t know how you never caught something serious, like pneumonia or whatever,” he scolded.

  “You don’t have to. We’re near home anyway,” you tried to reassure him, but he was, as usual, outwardly ignoring it. “Really, Tae, it’s no big deal. Let’s go.” He was ready to fight you on this one, but you were already walking away. He took a few hurried steps to catch up.

  After a ten-minute walk, daylight was almost completely gone, lit lampposts following its wake. You both hit the front door rug with your feet several times before getting inside, your mom was a bit freaky when it came to cleaning.

  “Mom, Tae’s here!” You shouted from the living room, guessing she was in the kitchen. “We’re going upstairs for a bit! School work!”

  “Okay, honey! Tell him that dinner will be ready soon!” She responded.

  “I love you, Ms. D’Angelis!” He shot back. Yes, you had an italian background. When she heard his voice, she made sure to come out and greet him.

  “Love you, too, honey”, she pecked his forehead and he beamed. They liked each other way too much for their own good. “And you,” she pointed in your direction, “give mamma a kiss.”

  You sighed before attending to her request. It was in your best interest not to fight it. “Okay, enough of this. We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”

  “Have fun, kids.” You sure would. Taehyung might beg to differ.

  The rest of the night was somewhat peaceful. You had helped Taehyung as much as you could before your mother called you out to eat, claiming that you shouldn’t starve the boy and then make him eat a cold meal. He couldn’t agree fast enough. For the most part, that was your life. Uncomplicated and comfortable, which was plenty for an eighteen year old. When you went to bed after practicing the piano for a little while, you were completely unaware of the pair of pitch black eyes that observed you through the window. But he was fully aware of you.

  ||\\

                                                                    [Fear of the Water, by SYML]

  You knew it was a dream. From the moment your brain processed the heavenly sight that unrevealed before your eyes, you knew. It was breaking dawn, the soft orange light kissing the ocean like a long lost lover. You were at the end of a cliff, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be afraid. You looked down at the waves that broke into the rocks almost violently, the salty breeze somewhat comforting. You loved the sea.

  Taking a few deep breaths, you barely noticed the crack. The sound came from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t want to look away from the view, neither did you want to wake up. When you heard it again, you recognized footsteps. You turned around lazily, curious as to whom it would be the visitor of your reverie. When you fixed your eyes on him, though, you stopped breathing for a moment and your heart surely skipped a beat. He was a stranger in a number of ways, for he was seemed truly unworldly. Maybe ethereal was the word you were looking for. His violet eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe. Beautiful. His hair was dark as it fell like a silky curtain on his forehead. Not a single flaw on his skin or his body, but none of that was as breathtaking as what lied on his back. Great, large white wings, so beautifully outstretched that you felt unworthy of looking at them.

  You opened your mouth a few times, but nothing would come out. Probably for the best, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of what was probably your mind’s greatest creation. How you could come up with him was beyond you. You wanted to ask his name before it all ended and you had to go back to real life, back to average. You wanted to touch his face, his wings, see for yourself if they felt as they looked. You wished you never woke up. As he took a step closer, you took your own back, startled at the sudden movement. Before you realized your mistake, it was too late. You had lost your balance. You knew it would be over soon. Taking one last look at the stranger, you saw as he stretched one arm to reach you, but to no avail. Too soon, the wind was ricocheting your skin and you were falling.

  You woke up with a loud gasp as you searched for air, finding it oddly rarefied. When you registered the annoyingly high pitch of your alarm, you whined. Real life was the last thing you wanted to face right now, but if you told your mother that you’d stay in bed daydreaming about a figment of your imagination, she would personally retrieve you from the bed and toss you into the shower. Made sense.

  Getting ready as quickly as you could manage, you felt excited for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the afterglow of the dream, but now you were eager to get out of the house, as if you wanted to find him. Which was insane, because you knew he did not exist. Come to think about him now, it was getting harder by the minute to remember his face. You panicked.

  Running towards your desk and grabbing a pencil and your notebook, you tried to recreate him on paper, which was a lost battle from the start. Even if you were some doodling genius – you were definitely not – you would never be able to do him justice. You doubted anyone who had ever stepped on this planet, past or present, ever would. It was not the kind of beauty that could be explained or demonstrated, but rather felt. He wasn’t just inhumanely pretty, wings and all. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It may sound cheesy and totally deranged, but you felt whole in those few shared moments, like you knew him your entire life. Your mind didn’t recognize him, but your body did.

  Groaning at the piece of paper and throwing the pencil at your baby-blue wall in annoyance, you gave up. It was pointless, his features were already escaping your mind. You didn’t know why you were so hung up on a dream, honestly. Seeing that you were a little riled up, you decided to let it go and just finish getting ready for class. You could see through the window that Taehyung was already waiting for you.  

    ||\\

 “So, how did it go?”

  He pouted before answering. “It went alright.” Lies, he was a big fat liar.

  “C’mon, Marzipan, be honest with me for a second.”

  The nickname finally broke him down. “Fine, I hated it. I remember you telling me about every important detail of the subject yesterday, but I couldn’t put it on paper. Plus, why the fuck does he have to elaborate the questions so much? Most of the time I didn’t even understand what was being asked. Literature sucks,” he whined indignantly. You could tell it was taking a toll on him.

  “Don’t worry too much about it, okay? I will help you. We’ll both graduate this year, yeah?” you reached his hand on a reassuring squeeze.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “Then sure. But you have to take me seriously, Y/N,” he warned you. “No more losing track of time in coffee shops.”

  “Hey, I bought you a frappuccino, that incident should be six feet under by now,” you accused and he mumbled a grumpy response.

  The both of you spent half of the morning taking the lit test. You thought you did fine, though the questions really were a little bit tricky. Walking side by side with Taehyung, you didn’t notice him at first. But once you realized there were no seats available right next to each other, your eyes eventually landed on his.

  “We can’t sit together through this class, we’re too late,” Tae grumbled, trying to get your attention back to himself, but to no avail. “Y/N? Hey!” He flicked your forehead and you yelped.

  “Did you just… flick me?” you seethed.

  “I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t lusting over the new guy. Who is he, by the way?” If you acknowledged the hint of jealously in his tone, you didn’t show it.

  “I was not lusting over anybody,” you huffed.

  “If you say so.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Grumpy. Is it because I caught you?” You just snarled and took a seat at the front row, while he chuckled and chose the one in the back.

  To be honest, you were lusting a little. Those eyes seemed oddly familiar, though you couldn’t quite put a finger on why. The rest of the day passed by smoothly; you were able to sit with Taehyung for the remaining classes you had together and even helped him a bit with some homework. After a while, your new classmate was nowhere near your mind, despite that funny feeling you got every time you looked at him. Maybe it was because he was stunningly handsome. Who knows? You never cared much about those things, but you were only human.

  On your way home with Taehyung, you felt eyes burning on your back. You turned around and found him staring, expression unfathomable. He wore a black lather jacket, jeans and a black shirt, his dark hair beautifully disheveled. He gave you a wanton grin and you scoffed. Well, you knew his type, and it unnerved you to death.

  Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

  He cut off the eye contact abruptly, heading towards a grey motorcycle. No shit, huh? You almost laughed at the predictability. You weren’t exactly into bikes, but that looked expensive. And it suited him perfectly.

  “Holy-… do you see that? That’s a Triumph fucking Rocket,” Taehyung gasped, shaking your elbow lightly. “A 2500cc engine capacity Triumph Rocket. Man, his parents must be loaded. That’s not a high schooler’s bike,” he said, almost dreamy. Yeah, you saw that coming from a mile away.

  “You talking about the new guy?” You asked nonchalantly, turning your head as you resumed walking.  

  “Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t ogling just now,” he accused.

  “You’re obsessed with our new-found bad boy. Maybe you should date him, Tae,” a snicker left your lips at his appalled expression.

  “Shut up,” he pushed your shoulder. “I’m just curious.”

  “As in bi-curious?”

  “Okay, that’s it, I’m leaving you behind,” he grumbled as he fastened his pace. You chuckled, trying to catch up with his long legs.

  When you arrived home, you noticed an attempt of a drawing on top of your bed. It looked like a poorly doodled angel. First things first: though it definitely looked like something made by your hands, you didn’t have any recollection of it, let alone of leaving it on display like that. You looked around, searching for something, but nothing else seemed out of place. Trying to shrug the uneasiness off, you picked some clothes off the wardrobe and went for a warm bath.

    ||\\

  It was a Saturday afternoon, so you planned to do the usual: hit the library and grab some coffee on your way home. Taehyung had promised to watch a movie with you this weekend, but a surprise party to one of his friends came up. He’d invited you to tag along, more out of habit than anything else. Your answer was always the same when he asked you to spend time with his peers; you weren’t even remotely fond of them. They had maybe one functioning braincell and a whole lot of conceit. Not your crowd at all.

  “Mom, I’m leaving. Do you need me to get you anything?” You said, already on your way to the front door.

  She was sprawled on the couch, gazing attentively at the TV.  “No, honey, thank you. Are you going out with Tae?”

  “Nope, something came up, we rescheduled. I won’t be long.”

  “Okay, then. Be careful!”

  “Will do!”, you shouted from the outside.

  It was closing time when the sweet old lady had to gently kick you out. You weren’t surprised when you found out your phone was dead; you probably had a billion calls from your mother and, if she was desperate enough, maybe even Taehyung. Letting out a sigh, you grabbed your stuff quickly and waved goodbye to the librarian as you made your way out the door, grumbling to yourself about not being able to pick up some coffee now.

  The air was hazy and cold, you couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, and the streets were oddly empty. You tightened your coat around your body and quickened your pace, not willing to spend more time outside than you needed to. Seeing that all the stores were closed, you realized that Martha (the librarian) probably let you outstay your welcome a little bit. You cursed at the freezing night and your cheap coat. Taehyung was right, you should buy warmer clothes.

  Lost in thoughts, you were stupid enough to miss the drunken noises coming from the end of the street. There was a group of three men coming your way and they all seemed to have ingested an unhealthy amount of booze, laughing loudly and pushing each other playfully. You felt cold sweat fall down your spine but just tried to ignore it, hoping that you’d be able to pass them by without being noticed.

  “Y/N?” His voice was dragged, and he was tumbling around the words. It was only then you realized they were from your school, the boy in the middle being Jimmy, Taehyung’s drink buddy.

  “Hi”, you tried to stay as far away as possible, but the one with the fashionably boring rectangular glasses didn’t let you, hooking his arm around your neck. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.

  “C’monnn-“ he hiccupped, “don’t you wanna par-tay with-“ another one, “-us?”

  You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

  “Not really. I have to go,” you almost managed to untangle his disgusting arm from you, but he kept it in place, holding you tighter. “Let go of me.”

  You were annoyed. And scared to death, to be honest. These boys didn’t exactly live by a moral code, and the four of you were alone in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust them.

  “Aww, don’t be shy, princess. You’re always so… boring. Makes me curious about what you’ve got going on under all… that.” The last one, Ian, made his way towards you, snickering menacingly. He wasn’t as drunk as the other two, and if you could give a hunch, you’d say he knew exactly was he was doing. That scared you even more. Feeling the brick-wall hit your back, you realized you were cornered, a curse escaping your dry lips.

  “Look, I really have to g-“ he cut you off by pressing his body into yours, making you lose your breath for all the wrong reasons. “What the fuck, man?! Let go of me!” You were visibly growing desperate as you tried to punch his face and his chest, but that only earned you a chuckle from him as he held both your wrists with one hand.

  “Feisty. I like it.” You almost puked right then and there, the bile stuck in your throat making you scowl. He let his filthy fingers slide down your sides, until he could grope your ass.

  Your stomach sank, heart drumming against your ribcage as you held back a whimper.

Okay, think.

  Taehyung had taught you the basics about self defense a thousand moons ago. And yet, you realize that it was nothing like the real thing. You balled your clammy fingers tightly, knuckles white as you scanned every corner of your brain to try and find a way out.

  “Tae will kill you if you touch me,” your voice trembled. You couldn’t help it.

  He laughed whole-heartedly. As if the mere thought was actually funny to him.

  “He wouldn’t dare, sweetheart. Besides, I think he actually wouldn’t mind sharing his bitch with us for the night,” he stated. “He’s not using it anyways,” he punctuated with a roll of his hips and, this time, as you felt the pathetic bulge inside his pants, you couldn’t hold back a tiny sob. Because fuck, this was it. There was no way you could take down three grown men on your own.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The voice was low and steady. It made your skin crawl. You snapped your head and looked at the dark haired man standing behind the boys. Ian lazily turned around, still keeping your wrists wrapped tight in his hand.

  “None of your business, newbie. Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience.”

  When he chuckled, it was different from Ian’s. It was darker, rougher, and concealed a vicious ferocity that you knew was there. You knew because, as he disregarded your aggressor and looked you in the eyes, you almost feared for them.

  “Ian, dude, let it go.” Jimmy instantly sobered up and tried to avoid any confrontation. To think he spent time with your best friend but would let Ian harass you without saying a word was disgusting. “Come on, your old man will kill you if you get in trouble again.” So that was his main concern. Still looking out for his shitty, abusive friend. Men’s sorority really is misogyny.

  “You should listen to your friend. Believe me, you won’t survive me when I get my hands on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. You felt the sincerity in your bones. And so did Ian and his stupid cavalry. “Leave.”

  Ian sighed, but relented. You felt a hot wave of relief as he disconnected his body from yours, leaning on the wall for balance as your legs wabbled.

  “You better watch out,” he spits.

  “Y/N, I... I’m really sorry,” Jimmy said as he scooped his friends and dragged them away from you. “You too, Min. He’s just drunk. We would’ve stopped him if it got too far.”

  He’s lying. You can tell.

  “Get the fuck out of my sight,” he growls, his composure faltering for a minute. As they stray out of view, he turns his gaze to you.

  “Care to tell me what the hell are you doing walking alone in the middle of the night?”

  He’s angry.

  You scoffed, adjusting your coat around your shoulders and straightening your back.

  “Thank you for the help, but I’m too old for a babysitter,” you say. “Besides, I don’t even know you.”

  He looks at you and, as if trying to regain some sense and control a fit of rage, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling a long puff of air.

  “Alright. My name is Yoongi,” he takes you by surprise as he snatches your wrist in an iron grip, “And I'm fucking walking you home.”

  As he drags you across the street, you want to yell at him. You want to tell him to fuck off, you preppy bastard. But you don’t.

  Because the truth is, you’re so fucking grateful. God knows what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for him. As he calms down, he drops your hand and slows his pace, allowing you to catch up without having to make an effort. You want to talk, but you choose to stay quiet.

   Now that you weren’t so skittish anymore, it finally dawned you how the snow was beautifully spread throughout the streets, the trees, the buildings. Everything that was cool, cold, blue, held some fascination to you. Summer was never really your season – it had always been winter. To be able to curl up on your couch with a warm blanket and a hot cup of coffee, it was heavenly. You always thought that, if you could see the world through a color palette, it would be in different shades of blue.

  The snow was not the only thing that you were entranced by, though. Yoongi was, from what you saw so far, much like winter to you. Harsh when needed, cool, but also peaceful and comforting. He didn’t urge you to talk about the incident; he didn’t urge you to talk at all. His mannerisms caught your attention from time to time – how he constantly ran his long fingers through his hair, how his eyes seemed to flutter shut lazily a few times in a row, or how he carried himself so elegantly that it almost made you jealous. He looked terribly familiar, too.

  “Why are you staring?” His bluntness caught you off guard, but still couldn’t disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

  “Just curious.” It was true. “Apart from the motorcycle and the superhero complex, I don’t know much about you.”

  “Well, there’s not much to know.”

  You hummed in response. “What are you doing here, then?” You ask, and his feet come to a halt.    

  “What is this, an interrogation?”

  You scoff, and you both start walking again. “Just trying to make conversation. Besides, I’m actually curious,” you ponder. “People don’t move into this town very often,” you kick the snow under your feet. He sighs.

  “I’m here with my… brother,” he hesitated before continuing, “he’s my guardian, sort of. We used to move a lot. Work thing.” He couldn’t hold back a grimace, but it disappeared in a second. You wanted to ask about his parents, but felt like you’d be crossing a line, so you kept your curiosity to yourself. “Now you tell me,” he said.

  “Tell you what?”

  “About yourself. Your family. Whatever you want to.”

  “Um, let me see. I live with my mom. We moved from Italy when I was about three years old. My dad… my dad stayed.” You didn’t want to get into it, and he immediately noticed, just nodding for you to continue. “She’s been taking care of me by herself since then.”

  He hummed in understanding, sparing you a few glances that you couldn’t quite decipher.

  Before you knew, your house was already in sight. You wished you lived farther, just so you could keep that strange interaction on for a little longer.

  “Well, this is me,” you announced. Lying about your address had crossed your mind somewhere along the way.

  “Sorry if I was a jerk,” he surprised you by saying. You mouth opens and closes a few times before you say anything.

  “It’s okay, I guess. I was pretty riled up, too.”

  He nodded. “See you Monday, then?” His voice was deep and silky.

  “Yeah. Hey, I… I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

  “I am, too,” there was a dark undertone in his voice. “Good night, Y/N,” he surprised you by leading his right hand to the top of your head and lightly messing your hair before walking away. You stood still for a minute, until your mother opened the door.

  “Y/N?! Darling, why did you take so long? I was so worried!”

  “Um… Sorry, mom. I ran into a friend and my phone was off.”

  “Well, you should’ve at least borrowed your friend’s phone to let me know, things aren’t like they used to be around these parts anymore, it’s getting pretty danger-“

   She kept talking as she let you in, but you couldn’t concentrate. That night, you dreamt of him.

   ||\\                            

 “(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

     You didn’t think of yourself as an early riser, but when Monday morning came, you woke up before the alarm – and seemed almost delighted to do so. To be honest, you really tried to ignore the eagerness to see him again, but to no avail. The day before was thoroughly torturous, flashes of the short period of time you spent together coming back to haunt you now and then. At some point, you were so annoyed that you just lied on the bed and attempted to blast your eardrums off by listening to some crappy rock band at full volume. It didn’t work, obviously, and now you probably had hearing damage. The cons and cons of obsession.

  At this exact moment, for the first time in your entire friendship, you were banging on Taehyung’s door first. Because you just couldn’t wait a minute longer.

  “Damn it, woman, was is it with you today?” The sound of his voice was muffled. That, or you were going deaf, there was no way to tell for sure.

  “You’re going to make us late, Marzipan!” At that, he opened his bedroom door slightly, just enough so you could peek at his disheveled hair and sleepy face.

  “It’s dick o’clock in the morning, we have at least forty minutes until we leave,” his voice was rugged and he had an aggrieved look plastered on his pouty face.

  “I brought you coffee,” you smiled at him while raising the thermal cup.

  “Stop the madness and go wait for me downstairs, Gilmore girl,” he grunted. “Dad probably misses you, the poor old man. Keep him company, will ya?”

  “Don’t be silly, Mrs. Kim need his sleep in the morning.”

  “Then shut up and don’t wake him,” he grunted, closing the door shut, but it took him just a second to reopen it. “Wait, if dad’s asleep, how did you get in?”

  “I, uh… Might or might not know that you keep a spare key inside the porcelain elf’s hat,” your lips tugged upwards sheepishly.

  “Of course you do, you little imp. I’ll be down in a sec,” he grumbled and shut the door again.

  Taehyung had asked you a couple of times why you were so anxious to get to school that morning, but you just brushed it off with an excuse that you knew he wouldn’t buy. There were several reasons as to why you wanted to keep things to yourself for now. Mainly, it was because you were afraid that he’d be furious enough to break Ian’s face in front of everybody once you told him the whole story. Not that you felt any sympathy, but rather that you didn’t want Tae to get in trouble. You’d tell him as soon as you could, though. You didn’t care for the idea of him being friends – or whatever they were – with Jimmy.

  As soon as you stepped into school ground, you discreetly searched for his motorcycle in the parking lot. It wasn’t there. You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face, but you couldn’t help it. He didn’t come today. Who cares? As much as you wanted to force some sense into your stubborn brain, you were still hoping he’d show up, even if you didn’t talk to each other. You just wanted to see him, is all. Great time to start acting like a stupid teenager, Y/N. Kudos.

  You were in the middle of a pretty heated argument with yourself as you entered the classroom. Taehyung picked a desk in the middle, as he usually did when the both of you were able to sit next to each other. You were almost putting your stuff down at his side when something caught your attention. There. You felt a girlish jolt of excitement when you saw Yoongi sitting at the last row. His silky black hair was damped, probably from the shower, and he was wearing a black, long sleeved shirt, v cut. You were about to divert your eyes, but then he stared right at your face and calmy removed his bag from the chair next to his. He smirked, as if defying you to take a seat. Annoying little piece of-

  “Tae, do you mind if I sit somewhere else today?”

  “What?” He looked at you, confused. “Where do you want us to…” Your eyes flashed to the end of the room and he followed your gaze. “What? Why would you-”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Uh… No?”

  “Okay, great. See you soon.” You knew Taehyung was confused, so you should probably be thinking of what to tell him when this class was over. But for now, you just carried yourself to the empty spot in the back. Yoongi was looking at you with an amused expression, hiding his little smile behind his intertwined hands. You wanted to wash that smug off his face so bad. You took a seat and his scent assaulted you, warm and musky. Almost irresistible. You saw Taehyung from across the room gazing at the both of you with an inscrutable countenance.

  “Is your boyfriend mad that you sat with me today?” He audaciously asked.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “I see. Must be hard, then,” he looked almost sympathetic.

  “What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

  “Nevermind. Tell me how was your Sunday,” he said while opening his notebook and doodling something you couldn’t decipher yet.

  “So we’re friends now?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Shouldn’t you ask me first?” You lifted your brow.

  “You’re bossy today.”

  You were about to give him a proper answer when the teacher barged in, almost breathless. As the class began, focusing on Hess’s Law was your main priority, it really was. But you couldn’t help the tingle crawling up your skin every time he unintentionally bumped his arm into yours, because he was still drawing, keeping his head down since Mrs. Edwards started talking. Still, you couldn’t move. No. Focus. You held onto the edge of your desk with one hand, knuckles white, as you kept the other taking notes on the subject.

  “Relax,” he softly whispered, not taking his eyes away from his notebook. You immediately loosened the tight grip of your left hand.

  “I’m relaxed,” you lied, imitating his tone. He chuckled, lifting his head to show you the most beautiful gummy smile. God, why was he so distractingly handsome? His soft, pale skin, his cat-like eyes. His hands, Lord, you wouldn’t even dwell on his hands. Everything about him was appealing, alluring. His voice, his smell, his gaze. He was devilish.  

  All of a sudden, he ripped off the page he was working on. You tried not to get even more distracted, keeping your eyes on the board, until he touched your arm with his hand. You tensed. “Here, keep this if you want to,” he said, passing the folded paper to you. Curiosity washed over your face and you were about to unfold it, but he stopped you. “I don’t think you should open it now.”

  “Why? Is it, like, an erotic sketch?” You could tell you broke his demeanor a little, he seemed both shocked and amused.

  “I wonder if that kind of thought crosses your brain very often. You’re filthy, Y/N,” he smirked. You almost choked at his tone and his words. He was teasing you, and you refused to go down without a fight.

  “Well, I don’t exactly know you, do I? You could be a perv.” He bit back a chuckle.

  “I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

  “Will I, now?”

  “Yes. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

  “You haven’t convinced me yet.”

  “Challenge accepted.” The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, then the bell rang. He grabbed his stuff and got up, then tilted his head and asked, “Do you want a ride… friend?”

  “I thought you didn’t ride here today.” Confusion stained his expression before he realized the meaning behind your words. You could see the enlightenment in his face and suddenly banging your head on a wall wasn’t all too bad. He was too cocky for his own good, and now you’ve just made it worse. Way to go.

  “I parked on a different spot,” he responded.

  “Yeah, sure. Uh, anyways… Thanks for the offer, but I’m going home with Tae.”

  “Suit yourself.” Before walking away, he turned around and said, “I’ll save you a seat tomorrow, Y/N.” Before you could elaborate an answer, he was already out the door, and Taehyung was in front of you with that ‘what-the-actual-fuck’ face he made every time he was caught off guard.

  “I’ll explain on the way home,” you sighed.

        ||\\

  You were both in the safety of your bedroom when you told Taehyung everything. From how Ian tried to do God knows what with you, to why he wasn’t able to. Pure luck. It was pure luck that Yoongi happened to be passing by, and it was pure luck that he’d bothered to check what was going on. You told him Jimmy was there. You saw the guilt and rage clawing their way to his chest, and there it was; the reason you were wary to tell him in the first place. Taehyung was explosive, a force of nature when he let himself indulge.

  “I’ll kill him. Why did you hide that from me?” Even though he was trying his best to hold back, you could still tell how furious he truly was. “Answer me, Y/N, I’m not fucking around here,” he didn’t mean for it to sound like a scold, but it still did.

  “I knew you’d be mad,” you retorted.

  “Of course I’d be fucking mad. I don’t think you understand just how mad I am.”

  “I know. Tae, really, nothing serious happened. It’s not worthy getting yourself in trouble for it.”

  “How can you even say that?” he barked.

  “Promise me you’ll let it go,” you asked softly.

  He looked like he’d just heard the worst profanity fall from your lips. “I don-“

  “Promise, Tae,” you were using your serious voice now, the one you used to tell him that no, it was not okay for him to mess with your books back when you were kids. You took it to the heart too often. He stared at you for a moment or two before sighing.

  “Okay,” he grudgingly said. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said after a moment.

  “It’s not your fault. Really, it’s not.”

  “I know. I’m just… sorry,” he let his head rest on your lap. You hummed and stroke his hair for a while. These little moments of utter understanding and peace was one of the reasons he was your best friend. The person you could rely on, always. And he could always rely on you, too.

||\\

   A few weeks passed you by in the blink of an eye. After the infamous events of that night, you and Yoongi grew closer each day. Not that it was always easy, he was infuriating at times; you had to be sharp to keep up with the incessant bickering. But, for what it’s worth, you were able to gather that he was much more than just a little shit, even though he tried to deny it. 

   And you suppose that’s one of the reasons to why your stomach flutters and your heart skips a couple of beats when he gets too close. 

   Probably a month too late, you come across that piece of paper Yoongi had mysteriously given you the first morning you sat together.  You took it in your hands with a gasp and carefully unfolded it, taking a sharp intake of breath at the drawing. It was a pair of eyes – your eyes, perfectly detailed by strong, yet delicate, traces. It was beautiful and left no room for doubts as to whose they were. The cocky bastard was actually pretty talented, you had to give him that. Before you had much time to think about it, your phone rang. You hesitated a moment before picking up, the number was unknown.

  “Hello?”

  “Did you like it?” The voice on the other line was coarse and drawn, and you recognized it immediately.

  “How did you get my number?” You asked while laying yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

   He had become a constant whenever you were at school or at the library. Nothing beyond that. The call was a pleasent surprise.

  “I have my ways. Will you answer at least one of my questions anytime soon?” There was a hint of a boyish amusement in his tone, and that instantly made you lighter. You liked him better in a good mood.

  “You don’t answer any of mine, so why should I bother?” You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you.

  “That’s hardly fair. What do you want to know, George?”

  You scoffed at the nickname. “First things first. I want to know how you got my number.”

  “It’s not so hard to get privileged information on the students’ personal data if you’re charming enough. Ms. Parker has a soft spot for me.” Of course. You should’ve seen it coming.

  “You’re shameless,” you scolded half-heartedly, taking a plushie in your hands and squeezing it.

  “It’s one of my many qualities. So, can you answer me now?”

  “Hmm… I might’ve liked it,” you stated, referring to the book he’d recommended. “But you’re already a pretty conceited man, so I should probably spare you the details.”

  He was silent for a while, and you almost mention the drawing you found in your backpack. But then, he’s talking again. “So you think I’m pretty, huh?”

 “Are you… Have you-“ you stammered in astonishment and he chuckled. “Do you actually select the words you want to hear?” you asked and he hummed.

  “Where are you?”

  “Home,” you answered without much thought.

  “I’ll pick you up in ten. Be ready.”

  “Wait, what?” You jolted out of the bed, dropping the plushie on the floor. “You can’t just… decide that. What if I’m busy?”

  “You’re not.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “But you do,” He sounded almost confused. And he was right, you did want to. Somewhere deep inside your brain there was a voice saying that you should’ve objected at least a little bit more. But, against your better judgement, you kept quiet, and soon enough your silence gave you away. “I’m hanging up now. See you soon, George.” You meant to talk back to him, but he’d already ended the call. That, arrogant, insolent, contemptuous jer-

  Before finishing that thought, you remembered you didn’t have much time. So you took a five minute shower, put on a little mascara and went out of the bathroom to find something to wear. There wasn’t enough time to go wild, so you just went for your favorite pair of mom jeans and tucked a burgundy sweater in. After brushing your hair and your teeth, you were ready.

  As soon as you were done, you heard a horn and rushed to the window. There he was, in all his glory, hips resting against his stupidly cool Triumph Rocket. Black boots, black jeans, black long-neck shirt and his usual leather jacket. Wonder what his favorite color might be, you scoffed. He shot you a smirk that made you hold your breath for a moment. It now occurred to you that you had no idea as to where he was taking you. Also, was it a date? A friend thing? Shit. You should’ve said no. You sighed. It was too late now.

  Before running downstairs, you sprayed a little bit of perfume on the nape of your neck and your wrists. Chloé, your signature scent.

  “I’m going out for a bit.”

  She was sitting by the window with a hot beverage on her hands and a book on her lap. Like mother, like daughter.

  “Last time you said that…”

  “I know,” you cut her off gently. “But I have class tomorrow. I promise I won’t be long.”

  “Is your phone charged, young lady?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  “Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

  “Sure thing. Bye, mom,” you gave her a brief peck on the forehead and rushed out the door.

  He was waiting for you at the porch, even more breathtaking now that you could see him up close. His musky scent was stronger and his pale skin was glowing. He was drinking you in with mysteriously piercing eyes.

  “Come,” he said, taking you by the hand.

  “Where are we going anyway?” you asked. As the both of you approached his motorcycle, you were trying your best not to trip.

  “You’ll see.” He took a helmet off a compartment that you didn’t know to exist and cupped your face to hold you still before he put it on you.

  “Is this like a Hitchcock movie? Will you take me just far enough so I can meet my fate by the end of the night?” A hint of dread crossed his features, but he composed himself soon enough.

  “Do you believe in fate, Y/N?” He asked, fixing the straps under your chin, his fingers setting your skin aflame.

  “I don’t know,” you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but his countenance urged you to provide a proper answer. “Faith is just not my strong suit, I guess,” you mumbled.

  Yoongi pondered about what you said for a moment. “Hold that thought, yeah?” Then he climbed the vehicle. “Hop on,” he started the engine. You were now too aware of the fact that you had never ‘hopped on’ one of those. “Don’t worry, I’m a really good driver,” he tugged his lips upwards.

  “I just… I’ve never done this.”

  “What, ride a motorcycle?” He asked and you nodded. “Trust me. I wouldn’t let anything happen,” he reassured you.

  I know. So you climbed the damn thing and held tight onto his waist, almost comforted by his warmth. He felt the sensitive skin on his back crawl at the contact. Especially between his shoulder blades.

||\\

     You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. If you had any doubt that Yoongi was a mad man, those god-knows-how-many minutes on the back of his motorcycle had erased them completely. He was going fast. You could feel the wind ricocheting your face relentlessly, and every time he had to make a turn, your stomach fluttered. Sometimes, he turned his head just a little bit, as if checking if you were at least breathing, but you would grit your teeth and snap at him to look ahead, tightening your grip. You could feel him chuckle, his whole upper body being assaulted by small tremors.

  But when you finally arrived at your destination, it was all worth it.

  “Do you like it?” Expectation washed all over his ethereal features.

  “Do I… like it? It’s amazing,” your eyes sparkled with wonder and astonishment at the sight of the ocean. You were at a relatively high spot, like a small cliff, and you could smell the delicious salty breeze that you adored so much. But what truly amazed you, what really took your breath away, was the electric blue lights sparkling all over the wave crests. “Bioluminescence! How did you find this place? Can we go down?” You asked with the biggest smile, a childish excitement seeping through your tone. He giggled, the most magnificent, angelic sound you had ever heard.

  “I’d rather if we didn’t. I don’t want you to meet your fate at those slippery rocks, it wouldn’t be very Hitchcock-y,” he joked. You felt a bit disappointed but chose to let it go. The night, the sea, the sky; it was all too beautiful for you to allow yourself to be petty.

  He took a few steps ahead and sat closer to the edge, wind whisking his hair and making his catlike eyes narrow. You followed suit, sitting in lotus by his side. You both took a minute to appreciate the sight, falling into a comfortable silence, that was soon broken by his husky voice.

  “I come here a lot when I need to remind myself of who I am. Of where I’m from,” he said, still looking at the waters below, eyebrows furrowed. “I never thought of bringing anyone else here before.”

  “So why did you?” Your voice was small, whispered.

  “I don’t know. I guess…” he stopped for a moment. “I possibly just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I don’t know any place else that feels more like home to me. Perhaps I also wanted to share it with you.” Then he turned his gaze to you, eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was divine, bewitching. Especially now, when he seemed to be opening up to you for the first time. You felt your heartbeat speed up at his confession.

  “Thank you,” you said softly, diverting your gaze to the waves. “I can understand why you’re so fond of this place. It’s blissful, feels like heaven.”

   He humms, fixing his gaze on the crashing waves above you.

  “Y/N.” He was surveying your face now, as if trying to read you. Expectant. 

  “Yes?”

  “Do you believe in heaven?” His voice is a whisper and, for a moment, you wonder if you’d heard him correctly. 

  That was probably the last question you’d expected from him, it took you completely by surprise. You inhaled deeply, searching for the right words, but ended up blurting what first came to mind.

  “For all I know, heaven is here. Hell, too. I want to be better, yes, for the people I love. I want to be better for whoever needs me to be, because I know how tough this can get. If there’s an afterlife… at least I’ll know that I tried to be good for the right reasons. So yeah, let’s say I don’t dwell on it. Whatever happens, happens.”

   By the time you finished talking, there was something sparkling deep inside his onyx eyes that you couldn’t recognize.

  “That’s sort of refreshing,” and there it was again. The sheepish gummy smile you adored so much, so utterly genuine and divine you thought you’d die.

  “What about you?”

  “Yes. Heaven, Hell, the whole ordeal. Except for God.”

  “But… How would it be possible for all those things to exist without God?”

  “That is not what I said,” he let out a humorless little chuckle. “Let it suffice that God is… I believe, much too real. Just not how humankind paint him to be. I believe God exists; I just don’t believe in him. Not anymore.” His tone was raw and melancholic. You ached with the need to console him, because he seemed adrift; and that bothered you more than it should.

  Without realizing, your face had gotten closer to his, and suddenly he was all over the place. All you could see, smell, hear, it was all him. He must have known, because then he traced your features lightly with his long, graceful fingers. You thought that was it. That was heaven.  

  You closed your eyes so you could savor every second of it, heartbeat going wild and butterflies assaulting your stomach. He lifted his other hand, and now he was cupping your face gingerly, like you were made of glass. Every touch ignited something foreign and glorious inside of you.

  He shifted, moving closer, and his scent hit you, unyielding, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was enough to set something off, and your hands made their way to his neck on their own as you let out a shaky breath. You pressed yourself harder and sucked on his bottom lip, before caressing it with the tip of your tongue, earning a groan from him.

   Well, shit.

  He took the hair in the nape your neck in a dainty – yet firm – fistful, asking permission with his tongue to deepen the kiss. There was no denying him, you could never. His taste, God, you could spend eternity tasting every single bit of him. When he licked past your teeth, you moaned, and it was so utterly pleasing, sinful, that he felt compelled to go harder, mercilessly swirling his tongue inside your mouth. There was no room to breathe, the neediness for one another unbending.

  You don’t know how much time you spent in that haze of mind-numbing desire, but neither of you dared to stop. Until your phone rang.

  You jerked away, pupils blown wide from the intensity of the moment, skin flushed. You were both panting, eyes trained on each other, searching, scrutinizing, waiting for a reaction. His reddened, glistening lips were parted slightly and he seemed displeased to cut the moment short. Even so, he managed to talk.

  “You should probably get that,” he gusted, trying to catch his breath.  You couldn’t find it in yourself to do anything but nod.

  You took the device out of your back pocket and checked the ID caller, brows furrowing. He mirrored your expression.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s a girl from school. We have history class together. That’s… odd,” you said. You and Sarah have never had a real conversation, one that didn’t involve Napoleon or Julien Sorel. You just had her number saved because of a paper you had to do together a while ago. “Hello?”

  “Y/N? Thank God,” she sounded truly relieved. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you but… We’re at the school’s gym and-“ she let out a loud gasp, and only then you noticed the noise in the background, an uproar of voices and… Did you did hear a punch?

  “Sarah? What is it?”

  “Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

  Your blood ran cold.

  “What? Is he okay? Sarah, tell me what’s going on. Now,” you blurted, already standing, missing the way Yoongi’s face contorted in confusion and concern.

  “We tried to stop them, we really did, I-“

  “Sarah,” you grunted.

  “Okay, yeah. Him and Ian are at each other’s throats right now, it’s pretty bad. Y/N, I don’t think it’ll be long before someone calls the cops. I just thought I’d let you know, ‘cause-“

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” you cut her off, and then hang up.

  You were a lot of things at that moment, but mostly worried and angry. You had told him not to, you had told him to let it go, and he went behind your back. You heart rate was through the roof, adrenaline rushing through your veins. But this time, it wasn’t out of passion.

  “Y/N,” Yoongi had a wary look on his face. “Tell me.”

  “Can you take me back? Tae’s in trouble.”

  ||\\

  He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t meant to break his promise, but he knew it was bound to be broken the minute he made it. The idea of someone else touching you was torturous enough, but to think of them doing it without your consent actually drove him crazy with rage. Those unbidden images of you scared, asking that piece of shit to stop, only for him to hold you tighter, closer, wrapping his filthy hands around you… it wouldn’t stop coming to him, even though he’d tried his hardest to restrain them. It had haunted him ever since you told him. He felt sick. He hated himself for not being there for you, with you. Like the disgraceful best friend he was, he’d canceled movie night to get wasted. Ugly feelings, even the ones he didn’t care to admit, pierced their sharp claws at his chest. Guilt, exasperation, jealously.

  He’d tried to suppress the bitterness from watching you with the new guy, he tried to be just glad that he was there and hold out against it, because if he wasn’t… The point is: he really tried. But the way you looked at him made Taehyung’s stomach sink. He’d never seen it before, and he craved it like a man in the desert did a single drop of water. He wanted to be on the receiving end of that gaze more than anything.

  He’d go mad if he stayed inside, so he went out for a jog. Your mother had told him you weren’t home, and he figured you’d be at the coffee shop near school. What a big surprise it was when he found Ian next to a blue SUV that was parked near the gymnasium. He choked out a chuckle; it was just too tempting. Rage boiled trough his veins, and at that moment he knew he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t not break that scumbag in half, even if that meant he’d be going against your wishes.

  So he did. Every punch, given or taken, satisfied him little by little. Because he also deserved to be punished, he thought.

 ||\\

    “What was that shit that you pulled? After I explicitly told you to stay out of it! Why now?”

  Taehyung had a bloody nose, a deep cut just above his eyebrow and some pretty ugly purple spots all over his upper body, staining his previously pristine skin. When you and Yoongi had arrived at school, you discovered he’d been taken. By a police officer, nonetheless.

  You’d been so mad. But now that he was in front of you, all screwed up in torn clothes, the speech you had prepared escaped your mind. You just couldn’t understand his impulsiveness, and the fact that he was in a tiny, smelly cell because of you was infuriating.

  “We both knew it was bound to happen eventually, so I figured rather sooner than later,” he answered nonchalantly.

  “Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

  “What, Y/N?!” He snapped. “You wanted me to let him get away with it?”

  “Yes! Yes, I literally told you that that’s what I wanted!”

  “Well, too bad,” he darkly said. He knew he was in the wrong here. But he was just too riled up to think straight.

  “Okay,” you said, taking a sharp intake of breath while running your fingers through your hair, “Okay, let’s be practical about this. Your dad is coming, right? We can talk about it at home.”

  “Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

  “Fine,” you, too, knew how to be petty. “I’ve got to go outside for a minute. Behave,” your gaze flashed to an officer for a second, but quickly made its way back to Taehyung. When you realized he wouldn’t give you an answer, you just sighed and carried yourself out the door.

  As soon as you stepped out of the threshold, you saw Yoongi leaning on his motorcycle, arms crossed and head hanging from his shoulders. You didn’t know what tonight had meant. You wanted to at least try to figure out if he felt the same as you did, but you had bigger problems. And to be honest, you’d rather sleep on it. It was all too intense and hazy.

  “Hey,” you said, walking slowly towards him. He lifted his head and offered a tiny smile.

  “Your boyfriend really hates my guts, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s not-“ you cut yourself off when you realized he was just messing with you again. Of course he is, he stuck his tongue down your throat just an hour ago. “Anyways. I guess Tae will be out in a couple of hours, but I have to stay here and wait for Mr. Kim. Thank you for… tonight.”

  He nodded. “No problem, George. I’ll call y-“

  Suddenly, his eyebrows knitted together and his whole body tensed as he straightened himself. If you ever told anyone about this, you’d probably be admitted in a mental facility. But you swore that, for an instant, his eyes changed colors, going from pitch black to a deep violet. It happened in a heartbeat, and then he wasn’t looking at you anymore, but at something past your shoulder. You felt a chill run down your spine as you turned around to see what caught his attention.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man was walking towards you. As his lean figure got closer, the tension grew almost palpable, and you could see from afar he had a small smile plastered on his plump lips. But it wasn’t comforting at all. Instead, it was vile, almost sadistic. Your head snapped to Yoongi again, and you saw how he didn’t move a muscle, fists closed tight and jaw clenched. That made you panic a little.

  “Yoongi, what-“

  “Y/N, go inside,” his voice was hoarse and restrained, like he hadn’t talked in weeks.

  No, you wanted to say. That man, whoever he was, screamed bad news. He walked like a predator, and you felt like his prey. Though your self-preservation instincts were going wild with every step he took, something stronger made you want to stay. You knew he wasn’t here for you, but for him. And that sparked a need to protect him that you didn’t know to exist, nor where it came from. However, you just kept quiet and waited for the man to catch up, not missing the murderous aura emitted from Yoongi.

  At last, he stood in front of you, reddish hair and twisted smirk still on his face. You could see him clearly now, and he was beautiful. The kind of beauty you’ve only seen once.

  “Has anyone actually pressed charges this time, little brother?” His voice was deceivingly soft.

   Brother?

  “How did you find me?” Yoongi asked with an icy voice that almost made you shudder.

  “Is that how you greet your elders? Father would not be pleased.”

  “Well, you’re one to talk, aren’t you?”

  “People are still hung up on that, I see,” the man chuckled. “Yoongi-ah,” he said, his feet taking him closer at a slower pace. Yoongi kept his ground, knuckles white from his balled-up fists, while you instinctively took a step back. That’s when they both seemed to acknowledge your presence. Yoongi’s eyes bulged slightly, his pale skin becoming ever paler, while the other wore an unreadable expression on his face.

  “I told you to go inside,” he almost growled, taking your wrist in an iron grip and pulling you to stand behind his back. You didn’t understand. You didn’t understand any of it. Why did he seem so threatened by his own blood? The man was scary, sure, but was he actually dangerous? Your head was spinning, so you held onto his jacket to keep yourself vertical.

  “Were you not planning on introducing me to your friend, baby brother? That’s just rude, you know how much I love meeting new people.”

  “I’d advise you to be careful now, Jin.” The threat in Yoongi’s low voice was noticeable even to you, but Jin didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he relished on it. His little brother didn’t get all protective over just anyone, and the fact that he didn’t want the eldest to know about you pointed straight to a weak spot. One which he intended to take full advantage of.

  “Easy, Prince, no need to get riled up,” Jin chuckled again, lifting both hands in a sign of peace. “What do you take me for?”

  “Neither of us can deny your nature, can we, brother? It’s the reason why we’re here in the first place.”

  “It’s true. Have you told her your name yet? Since you appear very comfortable sharing such details in front of her.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought I had made myself clear the last time we saw each other,” Yoongi changed the subject, hoping you wouldn’t pay much attention to his question.

  Jin’s face turned serious for the first time before he spoke. “They approached me, Yoongi-ah. It would seem that they need their Flam-“

  “Quit it!” Yonngi growled. “Hold your tongue, I don’t want to hear any of it. You need to go.”

  “Not until I have delivered my message.” The well-proportioned man stood his ground.

  Yoongi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He could not have this kind of conversation in front of you – in front of anyone, for that matter. Jin was breaking the rules; an old habit of his. “Then I need you to wait for me at home. I suppose you already know where I live, don’t you? I’ll meet you there soon.”

  “Alright then. Y/N, it was splendid meeting you. I do hope I get to see you again soon.”

  Yoongi scowled as he watched Jin turn on his heels and disappear in the night. For all he knew, Jin would never get this close to you ever again. He was caught off guard today. He then turned around, black orbs scrutinizing you for a reaction.    

  There were many things going through your mind at that exact moment. Too many questions, he could tell. You looked at him in a grimace of confusion and horror.

  “How did he know my name?” That was the first thing that popped into your mind. You hadn’t said your name, neither did Yoongi. “And who’s ‘they’? And did he really just call you prince? Is that a pet name or something?” You blurted out, sensing you wouldn’t have too much time to elaborate the questions the way you wanted to.

  He looked into your eyes, face contorted in what you could only describe as a desperate hesitation, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a fine line. He was pondering his options. You knew that because, when he made up his mind, you could clearly see the taint of resolution.

  “I can’t answer your questions,” he muttered.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m really sorry, Y/N. Please, just forget about this. All of it.”

  “What are you talking about?” you were on the brink of losing it at this point. First Taehyung, and now this. He wasn’t making any sense. But his eyes spoke to you in ways he couldn’t. Only then, you understood. “No,” you said with a resolution of your own. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me right away, whatever it is, just don-“

  “Y/N.”

  “Yes?!”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Listen to me just this once,” he groaned, stepping into your personal space. He twisted your hair in one hand, holding your face securely to his. When he rested his forehead on yours, your eyes gave into his wishes, closing on their own. “I’ll be gone for a little while, George,” your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt him. He gave you a light peck on the mouth, lips soft and moist, breath hot on your face. “I have to settle some things straight. Be good for me while I’m gone, yeah? Don���t do anything stupid,” he frowned.

  “Will you come back?” your voice almost cracked, ‘cause you weren’t so sure of his answer. You felt foolish. You’ve only known him for a short period of time, after all. But the intensity of your feelings, though you couldn’t discern them clearly yet, scared you.

  This felt horribly like goodbye – it was, at least for now – and you hated it.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” you answered straight away.

  “Alright,” he nodded. “Then I will.”

  You didn’t dare open your eyes when he stepped away from you after one last chaste peck on your lips, nor when you heard him start the engine of his Triumph. But when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, you jolted slightly and your eyes fluttered open.  

  “Let’s get you inside, kid” Mr. Kim said softly, brushing away a lonesome tear from your cheek. “Then you can help me scold my boy for making us come all the way to the police station on a school day, how does that sound?” he tried to uplift your spirit, and you offered him a half-hearted smile.

   ||\\

                                                       “Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

     It’d been four weeks since the last time you saw him. A whole month since he’d disappeared completely. At first, you waited anxiously for him to reappear out of nowhere. For him to just slide into the classroom, like he’d done the first time. But as time passed by and the third week came, you grew worried. He didn’t get specific about how much time it would take for him to do whatever it was, but you imagined it would be one, maybe two weeks. But now, a month later, you were beginning to wonder if he’d even come back at all. If something had happened, if he was okay…

  No. He promised.

  You’d rather not dwell on the possibility of something going wrong – hell, you didn’t even know what he was doing or what was that strange conversation he had with his deviant brother in front of the police station. You had a few theories, though. Not that you’d ever utter them out loud.

  Number one: mafia. Maybe not The Godfather sort of thing, since that seemed pretty outdated, but rather… Scarface, perhaps? So you had come up with the idea of Jin being a druglord; nothing more, nothing less. It made sense, to be honest.

  Number two: well, number two wasn’t exactly clear on your mind, but had something to do with super rich parents and an insane heritage. He could be the prince of an empire, right? You didn’t know anything about his family, except that his brother was blood-curdling.

  You just wished to keep your head in the right place until he explained the situation to you. If he explained, that is. Sighing, you tried to contain your derailed thoughts and get back to the real world, where Taehyung needed you to pay attention to Mamma Mia! for the nth time.

  “Alright, that’s it. You didn’t even sing along during S.O.S and that’s where I draw the line,” he said, taking the remote from your hand and pausing the movie. It was a cozy night and you were both plopped on the couch wearing socks and sweatpants.

  “When have I ever sang along during S.O.S, Tae?”

  “I remember it vividly, we were eleven. But that’s not the point,” he retorted. You bit your lip and kept your eyes trained on the frozen screen of the TV, already sensing where this was going. “You’ve been like this for a while now.”

  “Like what?” you pushed, trying to feign innocence. You were not in the mood for this right now. You just wanted to stare unseeingly at the TV and have some private time with your own thoughts until the movie was over.

  He sighed. “Look, I can only guess what’s going on,” he scowled, but tried to compose his features into a serene mask before speaking again. “But I need you to not be in your own head for a minute.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I want to help,” he said, taking your hand in his. The touch was warm and familiar.

  “I know, Marzipan,” another sigh. You took your hand from his carefully and got up. “I’m going to the store, you want something?”

  “What, now? Y/N-“

  “I just-, I need coffee and snacks if we’re pulling this off. If you want me to keep my eyes opened during Moulin Rouge, that is,” you pointed out matter-of-factly

  Taehyung shifted in his seat, face contorted in confusion, wariness and a hint of hurt. “Do you want me to go with you? It’s late.”

  “No, it’s fine. You can stay and plan ahead, I’m sure we’re not stopping at the next one.”

  He watched you silently while you fumbled for your keys. When you found them, he muttered: “Don’t be too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  As soon as you crossed the threshold, the cold air of the night hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. You closed the door and hid your hands in the pockets of your sweater, bringing it closer to your body in a poor attempt to keep the warmth from escaping.

  Walking towards the convenience store located a couple of blocks from your house, you let yourself get lost in headspace again. You knew you weren’t being fair to Taehyung. As much as you wanted to talk about this situation with him, you couldn’t. It felt like betraying someone who hadn’t even put their trust in you to begin with. Yes, it was unfair, and maybe you were being a shitty friend every time he tried to have a serious conversation about the subject and you brushed him off with an excuse, like getting coffee in the middle of the night.

  You sighed, not really willing to wallow in guilt tonight, and just tried to focus on your immediate task. One step after the other, then one more, and you could already see the lights of a tiny single shop, the only one opened this late at night. It belonged to Mr. Newton, a sweet old baker who treated you kindly every time he was filling up for his cashier.

  You entered the store and heard the little bell announce your arrival. Much to your surprise, Mr. Newton was working there that night. As he saw your expression of detachment, he frowned. So you tried to arrange your features in a polite smile before speaking.

  “Hello, Mr. Newton.”

  “Y/N, child, why are you wandering alone when it’s already this late?” he asked softly, though clearly concerned for your safety.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” you answered, walking towards the cooler where they kept the iced coffee and taking two in one hand, as you went for the chips next. “Tae and I needed a little snack. Movie night.”

  He nodded and you placed the items on the counter for him to scan.

  “Well, then. Tell that kid to come by whenever he can. My wife wants to send some essential oils for Mr. Kim’s aromatherapy sessions,” just as he’d said it, he got a bit closer to you, as if the next words to come out of his mouth were a secret. “Truth is, she misses him. The boy is the only one who can stand her cooking.”

  Despite being moody, you chuckled wholeheartedly. No one could be indifferent to Taehyung’s charms, it seemed.

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

  As you went through your wallet to pay the old man, you heard the little bell once again. Mr. Newton greeted the new client, but you were too engrossed in finding the right bills to snap your head in the newcomer’s direction. However, the inquisitive sound that left the old man caused you to steal a glimpse, catching auburn hair and broad shoulders in their wake. You stood still for a moment, trying to recall why those locks seemed so familiar. Until it hit you.

  “Jin?” you breathed, not loud enough for anyone in the store to actually hear you. Just as you muttered his name, he closed the door and turned left, disappearing from your sight. You gasped. “Keep the change, Mr. Newton!” you said – audibly, this time – leaving a ten dollar bill on the counter and grabbing your stuff as gracefully as you could muster, rushing to the door like your life depended on it.

  “No running in the store, kid!” he tried to scold you, but could already feel the cool breeze as you opened the door and looked around, expecting to find his brother. Only this time around you weren’t scared, no. You wanted answers, heart beating fast at the possibility of hearing from Yoongi, maybe even seeing him… Okay, no, not the time for this, first things first.

  When you realized he was nowhere to be found, you ran. Left. He went left. You passed by a few houses and almost tripped on a stray cat, turning your head to the side to check on it and apologizing profusely as you picked up your pace again. A few blocks later, you were already out of breath. You came to a halt and put both hands on your knees, gasping and feeling your lungs burn.

  Trying to ease your labored breathing, you realized that you were probably going crazy. A halfhearted chuckle escaped your parted lips. You were disappointed, even if actually meeting the redhead meant trouble. Trying not to let frustration and melancholy get the best of you, you decided to just let it go and head back home. Even if it was Jin, he probably wouldn’t tell you anything anyway.

 ||\\

    The snow under your feet was slippery as you got out of the library, leather backpack and navy-blue beanie on. You held a large cappuccino on one hand, careful not to spill it as you dodged passers-by and umbrellas every now and then. The streets were a little crowded that afternoon, and you were dying to get home and relish on Mrs. D’Angelis’ famous chicken noodle soup. Maybe she’d even grant you a warm glass of wine if you asked properly. You tried to occupy your mind with ordinary, day-to-day thoughts, trying to ignore the flutter on the pit pf your stomach.

  During that entire week, you were constantly under the impression that something was off. When you were going to school with Taehyung, or grocery shopping for your mother, there was always that tingling feeling on the nape of your neck that told you that someone was watching. Then you’d turn around and nothing. No one was ever there. The uneasiness was uncomfortable, but you didn’t feel endangered, just really jittery. And your motto was: no better medicine for anxiety than tons of caffeine.

  “Mom, I’m home!” you crooned, taking your coat off and discarding the empty thermal cup.

  “In the kitchen, honey!”

  The smell was splendid. You took a deep breath, already yearning for the hot meal, and kissed your mother on the cheek while she stirred… something.

  “Uh, smells nice,” you praised, making your way to the fridge for a glass of water. “I’m shocked Tae hasn’t come knocking on our door yet. Maybe his flair is broken because of the flu.”

  “Is Taehyungie sick, honey? Why didn’t you tell me?” she almost whined.

  “It’s nothing, just a bit of phlegm. But I’ll take some of these,” you pointed to the pots, “for him and his dad later.”

  “You really should. Now go upstairs and change before dinner.”

  You mumbled a response and climbed the stairs to put on some good old band t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn’t notice the broad-shouldered frame behind the door, and as soon as you closed it behind you, you felt a cold hand covering your mouth, while the other held you in place by the waist. Your whole body tensed, eyes bulged and breath hitched. Fuck. You were prepared to let out a loud scream, but his whispered voice stopped you.

  “It’s me, it’s me,” he shushed you. As a reflex, your muscles relaxed. “Gonna take my hand off your mouth now, George,” he informed, slowly moving his hand from your face.

  Of course it was him. His smell was all over the place, his touch still left little electric jolts on your skin. You snapped your head and turned around to face him. You realized your memories could never do him justice. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, you could cry. Pale skin, shiny disheveled raven hair. You noticed the circles under his eyes were darker and he seemed exhausted. Regardless, when your eyes fell on his lips, your body reacted before your mind could.

  Your hands made their way to the nape of his neck, caressing and gently pulling his hair. At the same time, you clasped your lips together on a desperate kiss. His surprise didn’t stop him from matching your frenzy, grunting as he sucked your upper lip and asked permission with his tongue, one that you promptly granted. Henceforth, your tongues performed an erotic, lewd dance as they fought for dominance, swirling and exploring each other’s mouths.

  Only when the back of your knees touched the bed did you realize he was moving you towards it. He broke the kiss for a moment to mercilessly throw you on the soft duvet, and you let out a surprised moan when he immediately covered your body with his, mouth returning to yours. A primal need surged from within you when you felt one of his hands roaming at your side lustfully, gabbing tight on your ribcage, your waist, your hip. He hoisted your leg and you hooked it around him, holding back a loud moan when he pressed his erection to your groin. You could feel your panties drenching from the sudden contact, a new wave of desire making your core ache.

  “Y/N-“ he tried to speak through heavy breathing, his lips never leaving yours long enough for him to finish a sentence. “Baby,” he groaned, obviously trying to say something, but you weren’t ready yet. You rocked your hips against him, earning another lecherous noise from his rosy lips as he closed his eyes shut.

  You used that moment of weakness to knock him to his side, climbing on top of him as you clamped your thighs harder on his hips. His eyes went dark at the sight, a devilish smirk tainting his beautiful features. You didn’t give him time to say anything, taking his lips on another bruising kiss. His hands on your ass, squeezing and groping, and you felt him throb inside his pants. You moaned, a gush of wetness coming out as you clenched around nothing. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, pressing yourself harder against his bulge as you rolled your hips, searching blindly and desperately for a sweet release that was already so close…

  “Hold it, baby.” His voice was stern, and he pinned both your wrists on your back, his hands seeming incredibly big when closed around them. He was sitting now, hot, labored breath hitting your lips, heightening your senses and sending shivers down your spine. You crumbled under his dominant demeanor, feeling an inconceivable need to obey, and instantly stood still. It surprised him as much as it did you, and you saw a smug grin plaster itself on his face. “That’s it. Be good for me so I don’t lose my mind.”

  You let out a breath you didn’t know to be holding and weakly nodded, mind still clouded with want. He let go of your wrists and gently pecked your lips, sitting you down on the bed instead of his lap. Father knows he would be physically uncapable of having a proper train of thought if he didn’t.

  “So… I guess we have a lot to discuss first, don’t we?” his smile was sheepish now, hands going through his hair in a nervous tick.

  “Yes,” you breathed out. “What happened? I was so worried, Yoongi, you have no idea. I didn’t even know where you were or what the hell you were up to, I-“ you took a moment in order to stabilize your voice. You knew you were affected by his sudden absence, you just didn’t know how much until now that he was actually in front of you. “I don’t even know what the worst case scenario could be, but I bet my thoughts came pretty close,” you chuckled humorlessly.

  “I’m sorry, I never meant to worry you. If I knew I’d be gone for that long, I would’ve told you before I left. I missed you so much,” he confessed, voice lower than before, and rested his forehead on your own.

  “Tell me. Please, I need to know,” your brows furrowed.

  “I met my brothers,” he paused, waiting for a reaction that never came. It’s not that you were not surprised by the information that he had other siblings, you just wanted him to finish it before you spoke. “Jin aside, I spent… years apart from my family. You could say that we didn’t leave things on the best of terms when I left father’s, so it was a surprise for me when I learned that they wanted to talk. Notwithstanding that it’s out of need, not love.” His heavenly features contorted in hurt and resentment, and you felt you own heart clench. You gave him an eskimo kiss as a sign of reassurance and he smiled timidly. “They offered to take me back. It’s… certainly a grand gesture for the likes of us,” he shook his head slightly and knitted his brows.

  “Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you miss them?” you didn’t know why your voice was so small.

  “Not anymore, no.” His gaze was intense and made your heart beat impossibly faster. “I do miss them. They used to be my whole existence, the reason for every breath of mine. But now… now everything’s changed.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “You.”

  Your breath hitched. If it was anyone else, if it was any other situation, you’d laugh at the cheesy line. But this was him, and that, too, changed everything. That one word was enough to unleash butterflies in your stomach, enough of them to knock you breathless. The truth behind his statement carried a heavy meaning, one that you yearned for and that made you giddy. His onyx orbs were wary, and you wondered if he was blind to the utter relief plastered on your face. It was selfish, but you couldn’t help it. Not when it came to him.

  “H-How come?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t get bashful on me now, George, I’m pretty sure you understand.”

  You tried to scowl, but the grin was insistent on your lips. “Alright, let’s put a pin on that. You still haven’t told me everything. What did your brothers want?”

  “Y/N, there are certain things about me and my family that I cannot tell you. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  “You don’t trust me?” you were mainly curious, but a hint of hurt could be heard, too.

  “That’s not it. It just wouldn’t be safe for you.”

  “Is your family involved in something… illegal? Is that why?”

  “Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  “I know. But please, George, don’t be stubborn about this one. All I’m asking for is a leap of faith,” his eyes were pleading as they bore into yours. Was he aware that he could probably convince you that the sky was neon green if he looked at you like that?

  “It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

  “I know. Just trust that I have good reasons,” he smiled softly.

  You sighed. “Fine, Romeo, keep your secrets. Just tell me if you get too deep into whatever it is that the Min’s are hiding. I care about your safety just as much as you care about mine.” You forced the heat back, secretly hoping that it did not reach your face in time for you to actually blush.

  “Doubt it,” he grinned. “Dinner is ready, Mrs. D’Angelis will be coming for you soon. I should get going.”

  Your face paled as you rushed to the wardrobe, retrieving some clean clothes from your drawer. “Wait,” you stopped on your tracks in the middle of the room, glaring at Yoongi through narrowed eyes. “How do you know that?”

  “I have my ways,” he shrugged, then tugged his lips upwards on a daring smirk. “It’s a secret.”

  “If you keep giving me clues I might just figure it out. Go on.”

  He chuckled and stood up from the bed, walking languidly in your direction. He touched your nose with the tip of his index finger, tracing it’s way all up to your forehead, then coming down to your jaw, where he grabbed firmly. His lips were smooth and slightly damped as they softly touched yours in a chaste kiss. A ragged sigh of pure bliss escaped you, and you tried to fight the haziness.

  “Bye, George,” he was still lingering when he spoke. As he broke the contact and turned to the window, you woke up from the trance.

  “Stay,” you breathed out. He looked at you with a hint of confusion. “I-I mean, you can stay if you want. I can bring you some of mom’s soup and we can eat it here. But you don’t have to, if you’re bus-“

  “Okay,” he deadpanned.

  “Okay. Yeah, uhm… I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can make yourself comfortable.”

  “Already am,” he said as he threw himself on the bed, bouncing a little. His countenance was amused and he eyed you intently, toying with the elephant plushie.

  “Of course you are,” you snorted, carrying yourself to the bathroom.

  That night, you both relished on your mother’s cooking while watching some old movie about Cole Porter on your laptop. You were sure that it wasn’t his cup of tea, but he payed attention to it nonetheless. After you were done, you offered to take the dishes downstairs, since your mother would probably have a stroke if she knew there was a boy in your room. You stopped by Taehyung’s to check on him and offer his favorite hot meal, but it didn’t take more than five minutes. You were on a hurry, and he knew better than to question it.

  Back upstairs, you and Yoongi curled up under the covers and tried to find something interesting enough to watch for what seemed to be ages, your head resting on his chest and his hands holding you securely by the waist. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep, and only then did he leave, pecking your forehead gently before jumping out the window.

  ||\\

  “Get in.”

  “No,” you tried to end the discussion then and there. As expected, you failed.

  “Y/N, you can’t go back on pinky promise. You should’ve thought this through.” His goal was to sound stern, but in reality you could see the hint of a pout on his lips. “It’s my birthday.” Okay, there it was. That was definitely a pout.

  “No,” you closed your eyes shut and facepalmed – for good measure. “Don’t give me those eyes, I’m not looking,” the sound was muffled by your hands.

  He wrapped his incredibly large fingers around your wrists and whined: “Come on, we’re already here. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Why on earth would you say that?” you instantly took your hands from your face and shot him a glare. He had the nerve to chuckle.

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this alone.”

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this at all,” you retorted, kicking the snow piled up near the curb, shunning away from his puppy dog eyes.

  “You promised you would! I’ll do it, Marzipan. If you win this round, I’ll get a tattoo with you as a birthday present,” his voice was high pitched.

  You snorted. “I was out of it, mental faculties completely fried. Drunk on power and merlot. Plus, I’m pretty sure you cheated, you could never beat me at Mario Kart,” you grumbled.

  “I did not cheat,” he was outraged. “I’m a lawful man, I abide by the rules, and they are clear: a bet is a bet.”

  You honestly have no idea why you let him talk you into this. Perhaps because you’ve been feeling guilty lately, and therefore didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he broke into your room to collect his victory this morning. It’s a good present, right? To get tattoos with your best friend? He had been trying to convince you since three birthdays ago. You hoped it would be enough to ease a bit of the weight on your chest.

  Truth is, you had been spending too much time with Yoongi these past few weeks. After what happened when he showed his face again, it became routine that he came by almost every night when your mom fell asleep. You’d talk, watch movies, kiss… But what you enjoyed the most were those moments where you curled up in his embrace, face buried in the crook of his neck, and neither of you would say a word. You’ve always appreciated peaceful silence, but those moments were so much more. You felt truly connected to him, in a way you’d never felt with anyone else. Like you were both pieces of the same puzzle, cheesy lines aside.

  Or when he would be the one to rest his head on your chest, blinking lazily as you twisted his silky, raven locks in your fingers. Perhaps those were truly your favorites, as you felt the incontrollable urge – need – to be protective of him, to never let anything disturb his serene, almost childlike countenance, so bare before you in the night’s veil. Before the sun came up and brought back the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

  During the day, you often returned to his safe haven – one that ultimately became yours, too. The waves breaking against the rocks, the salty breeze, the deep blue of the ocean, you had gotten acquainted to it all in a heartbeat. On occasion, you’d bring warm, fuzzy blankets, hot cocoa and books, spending an entire afternoon on your own personal eden.

  You never meant for any of it to get in the way of your friendship with Taehyung, but counterbalancing proved to be harder than you first thought. Although you may have gotten too caught up, inevitably distancing yourself a bit, you were now eager to make it up to him. He was like family, after all. So here you were.

  “Fine, have it your way. But I’m telling mom that you put me up to this,” you threatened. The snow under your boots making a crunchy noise while you crossed the street to get to the tattoo parlor.

  “She won’t believe you. I’m a saint. I’m her Taehyungie.” He was beaming.

  As soon as you got in, you saw a man sitting behind the counter. He was buff, and you’d bet that pretty much his whole body was covered in piercings and tattoos – mostly about dragons and snakes. Looks aside, his voice was warm and welcoming when he greeted you.

  “Welcome, kids. My name is Eli, how may I help you today?”

  All the drawings and pictures on the walls seemed to have detained Taehyung’s attention, so you plastered a polite smile on your face before answering.

  “Hi. My friend over here came to get a tattoo,” you pointed at the boy beside you and he scowled.

  “We both did,” he smiled at the receptionist.

  “Alright. You have to sign a couple of forms before we get into details. You’re both legal, right?” the receptionist asked and you nodded. “Peach. Just a second,” he turned his attention to the computer in front of him, taking a couple of papers from the printer soon after. He handled you each a consent form. Before you signed yours, you exchanged a look with Taehyung, almost having a whole conversation – bickering – with him through knowing looks.

  “Here you go,” Taehyung handed the papers to Eli.

  “Cool. Do you guys have something in mind? We have a few drafts you can check out. But if you already know what you want, Hyunjin can draw it when you get inside. Don’t worry, he’s good.”

  “I have something in mind,” Taehyung offered a bright boxy smile. “I guess I’ll just explain it to him, then.”

  “Great,” Eli turned his eyes to you, realizing that you definitely had not made up your mind just yet. “If that’s the case, I’ll let him know that you’re going in,” he said to Taehyung, who nodded in response. When the buffy man went to the back, he glared at you through narrowed eyes.

  “I’ll come back with permanent ink on my skin. You better not chicken out by the time I’m done,” he threatened.

  “Hope you don’t regret it within the year,” you taunted.

  “I won’t,” he snorted.

  Eli returned a second later, excusing himself to lead Taehyung to the tattoo artist. In the meantime, you picked a binder that was resting on top of the counter to take a look at the drawings he’d mentioned, hoping to find something you’d actually like – or at least an inspiration. Most of them were very intricate, and although they were beautiful, you wanted something simple. Less is more when you’re tainting your skin for life because of a bet.

  You were turning the pages with such disinterest that you almost missed it. It seemed unfinished, just a sketch, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason as to why it caught your attention in the first place. It was a dragon intertwined in a circle, it’s countenance exuding fierceness and strength. Inside the circle, however, was just an unembellished arrangement of lines, one that was strangely familiar and alluring. 9-7-1-12-6, if you think about a clock.

  “Oh, I see you’ve found Lee’s work. What do you think?” Eli pulled you out of your headspace.

  “Uhm… Yeah, he’s great. His drawings are pretty authentic.”

  “Uh huh, he’s been working on those for a while now. So, do you have any idea what you’re gonna get yet?”

  “Not really. I mean, I liked this one,” you pointed to the page you were previously analyzing. “Do you know if it means anything in particular?”

  “Yes! Actually, it does, but I can’t really remember what. I think it’s a sigil, though. You know, one of those thingies people believe to be magical.”

  “Mhm.” You really didn’t know why you felt the need to purge those next words, but you were saying them before you could stop yourself. “This is it.”

  “What? You’re gonna tattoo that?” Without even knowing what it means?

  “Yes. I liked the dragon.”

  ||\\

  His lips were soft against your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their wake when he moved them lazily to your jawline, wet little kisses making you squirm and sigh. His index finger was tracing patterns on your bare thigh, caressing and examining as if he’d never done it before, as if you were a made of glass. The sun had graced you with its appearance for the first time in weeks, and you wanted to enjoy the good weather as much as possible, so you had convinced Yoongi to lay on the grass by your side.

  “Tired of Miss Brontë already, love?” his velvety voice evinced his amusement.

  “Can’t read. You’re distracting me.”

  He chuckled lightly, delivering small puffs of air on the crook of your neck, and raised his head just enough to look at you, blocking the sunlight and making it possible for you open your eyes. Before he’d made his mission to disturb your concentration, you were reading for him, like people do with kids before they go to bed. It became a thing after the first time you did it, and now he picked a different book every week or so. When you’d asked about it, he just shrugged and declared that ‘It’s just nice. I like hearing you.’ This week, it was Wuthering Heights.

  “Continue, please,” he adjured, laying his head on your chest as a demonstration of good will. You grabbed the book you’d previously set aside and opened it, leaving one hand free to play with his locks.

  “That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least, for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped on the flags. In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image. The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.”

  His eyes were no longer closed, he was gazing at you.

  “Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

  “Heathcliff? I don’t.”

  He nodded slowly. “So, you think there’s no redemption, then?”

  “Not for him. He lived and died as an antagonist. Some might think his cruelty is just an expression of his frustrated love for Catherine, or that he conceals at least some virtue, a romantic heart. They expect him to be anything but what he constantly proves to be, they expect misunderstood heroes. But he himself acknowledges his sadistic nature.”

  He stood still, seeming to be lost in thoughts while tracing invisible patterns on your shoulder and refusing to meet your eyes.

  “Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?” he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

  “I’ve never had to,” you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you. “Hey,” you dig your nails gently on the nape of his neck, asking for his attention. When he raised his head, the wrinkle between his eyebrows was there again. It worried you that, since he’s been back, it’s been a constant feature of his. Every now and then, his face twisted into an inscrutable grimace. “You understand, don’t you?”

  A half-hearted nod was your response, and he built up the mask to conceal his discomfort once again.

  “Enough vitamin D for you? I can’t stand the heat,” he grumbled.

  “Yeah,” you chuckled, pressing your lips to his forehead and standing up, stretching a helping hand. “Where do you want to go?”

  “My place.”

  Which was code for: Your mom is home and I want to pass out on my bed nuzzling you.

  “Whatever you want, grandpa.”

  “Be a brat and I’ll hit the throttle,” he threatened, positioning himself on top of his Triumph. Sometimes he took full advantage of just how dreadful you found his two-wheeled vehicle. And it always worked. You snorted, climbing on the back seat and wrapping your arms around him. “Hold tight, George.” His warning was delivered with amusement, but you knew better than to take it lightly.

  The fifteen-minute trip went as smoothly as it could, and even though you’d made sure to keep your eyes closed, you still felt dizzy and light-headed when he parked into the old building’s garage. He sensed your distress and got off the motorcycle slowly, careful when untangling you’re your arms from his waist and never completely breaking physical contact.

  “Open your eyes,” he murmured, one hand on the small of your back and the other placed on your hip. You took a deep breath and your eyelids tentatively fluttered. His lips brushed your right cheek as he effortlessly lifted you and put you down on the floor, covering the entirety of your hand with his and making a beeline for the elevator.  

  Yoongi’s apartment was on the fourth floor, which happened to be the last one – the building was a small, fading-yellow rectangle in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. In a way, it suited him. Secluded and discreet. Perfect for a misanthrope such as himself, given that you’d never even bumped into one of his neighbors – and you’d been visiting quite regularly. On another note, however, it was uncannily unpretentious for someone like him.

  He stopped for a moment on the front door, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. As soon as he opened it, you made your way to the couch, crashing with a sigh, face buried in the cushion. A minute had passed before he plopped on top of you, compelling a puff of air out of your lungs. You grumbled something about manslaughter, but the sound was muffled. He ignored you, making himself comfortable by nuzzling your neck and taking off his shoes using only his feet. You chuckled, making an effort to turn on your back so you could catch a breath.

  “Sleepy?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. He hummed a response, content with your ministrations. “I, uh… have something to show you.”

  He raised his head from your throat, eyeing you curiously. “What is it?”

  “Bedroom,” you commanded.

  “Oh, I see,” he taunted, but stood up nonetheless. You rolled your eyes.

  You guided him to his room and closed the door behind you. He leisurely sat on the bed, waiting cautiously for you to proceed. You sucked in a deep breath, growing doubtful under his gaze. Pushing all insecurities aside, you unzipped your shorts.

  “Y/N, what are you doing?” he warned in a low-pitched, deep voice, orbs darkening considerably. You dismissed it, tiptoeing closer to him. He straightened his back and raised his eyes to meet yours, searching for any indication of what you intended to do. You pushed the waistband down, letting the piece of clothing pool on the floor, but he didn’t flinch, attention still focused on your features. When you hooked one finger on the hem of your white panties, he quickly snatched your wrist on a tight grip, brows knitting together. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, baby. You know that, right?”

  Your chest swelled with warmth and affection. After the night he came back, things heated up a couple of times. Once he’d realized how tense and anxious you got at first, he began to hold back, withstanding your advances. You never verbalized anything, but he had a hunch, and pressuring you was definitely not on his to-do list. He was being respectful and caring, and although you shouldn’t accept nothing less, it made you feel safe. He made you feel safe, always.

  “Let me show you,” you murmured, a soft smile blooming on your face. He seemed puzzled, but ended up nodding warily. When you moved your finger, slightly pushing the fabric down to expose your hip, he finally had the guts to jeopardize his restraint and look down. You didn’t know what you expected his reaction to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.

  His breath hitched and he paled, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. He didn’t move a single muscle, whole body tensing up. It was as if he couldn’t fully comprehend the sight before him, like he couldn’t believe. He composed himself soon enough, but you could still see the glint of shock in his eyes. It didn’t make any sense.

  “When did you get that?” his voice came out flat and a few octaves lower than usual.

  “A couple of weeks ago,” you frowned. The tattoo that marked your hip was now almost fully healed. You were doubtful in the beginning, but now you kind of grew fond of it. “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you know…” he cleared his throat, fingers twitching. “Do you know what it means?”

  “Not exactly,” you confessed sheepishly. “The tattoo artist said it was a religious symbol and… Truth be told, I’m not even sure why I did this. Just felt right,” you mumbled, realizing then that you probably sounded a tad out of it. You held your lip between your teeth, unsettled.

  “Yes. It’s the sigil of one of the seven archangels, love. It’s… Michael’s… sigil,” his jaw clenched, but his tone was now softer. “It’s used to invoke strength and protection. The ancients believed that, if you will it enough, he will be able to hear your prayers and, perhaps, be of assistance,” he laid his hand flat on your skin, stroking the symbol with his thumb, oblivious to the little jolts of electricity the simple gesture sent through your body. An unfamiliar mixture of dejection, despair and awe flashed through his onyx eyes, and you wondered what it was that he wasn’t telling you that could’ve possibly elicited such reaction.  

  “How do you know all that?” you wanted him to focus on something other than whatever it was that poisoned his thoughts.

  “Father taught me,” he shrugged.

  It’d been a while since he last mentioned his family. But you knew he was thinking about them whenever you saw the accentuated wrinkle every time he furrowed his brows, or when his muscles felt so tense to the touch that he was akin to marble against your skin. He was worried, he had been for a while now. And it scared you. You needed to know.

  “Yoongi…” the uncertainty that laced your tone made him squeeze your flesh encouragingly. “Where is he? Your dad.”

  “Home,” he stated tersely.

  “I know, but… Where is home? And what about your brothers? I know you said you don’t speak to them anymore, you just never explained why.”

  “We’ve already talked about this. They’re home, too. Y/N, just forget it,” he shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

  “Why do you build this wall between us every time? It’s frustrating. I can help-“

  “You can’t,” he deadpanned, breaking off any contact when he got up, making his way to the door. His demeanor screamed for you to back off, that he had no interest in continuing the conversation. But you were done being left in the dark.

  “Why is it so hard for you to trust me, huh?”

  “I already told you that it’s not a trust issue,” he raised his voice. “Why can’t you accept that I don’t want you to get caught up in the middle of my mess?”

  “Well, I am caught up in the middle of your mess!” you roared. “You were gone for an entire month and have been on edge ever since you got back. Something’s going on, I’m not stupid.”

  “Jesus Christ, Y/N,” a deep growl escaped his throat. “It’s none of your business, if we’re being honest here. They’re my problems, I’m the only one who can fix them – hell, not even that.”

  “If you could stop being such a jerk for a second, you’d realize that they became my problems, too, as soon as I fell in love with you. But you’re so far up your own ass that we can’t even discuss things without yelling at each other,” you spit the words. “Do you know what it’s like for me to watch you struggle like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders? Especially when my hands are tied,” you stepped closer to his figure, heart hammering on your chest after your little speech. It was nothing but a whisper when you said, “You’re not alone, you idiot.”

  His whole expression softened, and you could recognize a faint smile on his velvety lips. Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between the both of you and let his hand rest on the column of your neck.

  “I am an idiot,” he nodded, visibly calmer. “And you’re stubborn, you know that?”

  “Might have heard something about it,” you grumbled.

  He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

  “Maybe. Will you… I mean, I just wish you’d open up a little. I’m scared, Yoongi,” you confessed.

  “Me, too.”

  “I know. That’s why.”

  He shook his head and lowered it until his skin touched yours. “I’m scared of your reaction, baby. I don’t know if you’ll want me once you discover the truth,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

  “I’d say you’re safe. Unless your family is trying to coerce you into becoming a real life Michael Corleone. You didn’t shoot anyone in the head, did you?”

  He chuckled wholeheartedly and took a step back to maintain eye contact and mock you properly. “That’s your theory? That I’m a mobster?”

  You looked down sheepishly, before answering nonchalantly in a small voice, “One of them.” He couldn’t help himself, even though his hand was pressed tight against his mouth and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears of amusement. He tittered.

  “May I know the others?”

  “No,” you glared.

  “Oh, George, what if I ask nicely? What if I say please?”

  “Not even then.”

  “How about pretty please?” You shook your head, trying to pass through him to get to the kitchen, but he encircled his arms around you from behind before you could grasp the knob. “And what if I tell you that I am, too?” he breathed in the shell of your ear and you held your breath for a second. You didn’t need him to vocalize what you already knew, but you felt butterflies fluttering anyways. Still, you kept your ground, suddenly very conscious of the fact that your shorts were still pooled on the floor near the bed.

  “Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

  The loud bangs on the front door cut you midsentence. You felt Yoongi’s body stiffen before something that sounded terribly similar to a low growl broke out of his throat.

  “Get dressed and stay here,” he ordered, authoritative. He didn’t spare you a glance before exiting the bedroom, and you felt a dreadful feeling claw up your insides, piercing your gut and making you nauseous. Pulse thrumming viciously under your skin, you fetched your shorts and wiggled it up, fastening the belt with shaky hands. Stop overreacting, you told yourself over and over, growing more anxious by the second. You couldn’t understand why, to be honest.

  Taking deep breaths, you forced your fidgety fingers to stay still as you fell limp on the soft mattress, eyes closed. Your mind wandered to the safe haven: cotton clouds and baby blue sky, the smell of the grass, the books scattered around you and him. For a minute, you could truly take the edge off. Until you heard the noise of glass shattering on the wall.

  Getting off the bed as fast as you could, your head spun. You opened the door quietly, careful not to expose the presence of another person in the house, and made a beeline to the kitchen. While you looked franticly for something that could be useful as a weapon, you tried to stay attentive to the sounds. They were muffled, but you could discern at least two voices, apart from Yoongi’s.

  Alright. Great.

  As any sane person who’s watched more than a few movies would do, you went for the most obvious choice. Knives. Better safe than sorry.

  Almost counting your steps, you tiptoed your way to the living room. The voices were not very loud, but you could easily understand what was being said now that you were closer.

  “It’s imperative that you return with us now,” a dulcet, almost high-pitched voice uttered softly. “I am sure you are aware of your responsibilities. It’s time.”

  You stayed hidden behind the icy-white wall that separated the two rooms, gripping the hilt of the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Maybe you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, that was clearly a family matter. Maybe you should lock yourself in Yoongi’s bedroom and do as he said. But the truth was that you were far too curious – and now far too enchanted by the childlike voice – to stop yourself from prying.

  “I believe you have already forgotten about the current state of affairs, then? Father exempted me from my duties as soon as he banished me from the Gates and sent me to exile,” Yoongi spit. You could see it clearly in your head as he ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance. He sounded… different. You didn’t have the courage to tilt your head and steal a glance, afraid they’d catch the motion.

  “Father warned you about the consequences of your stubbornness, Michael, but you were very much unyielding in your misconceptions,” the second person said, gruffy and curt.

  “It is not a misconception to care for our own flesh and blood.”

  Wait. Michael? Had he been listening to your conversation earlier? If the man wasn’t so deadly serious and the air so dense, you would’ve laughed – although you felt that it was probably not the right time to let out a full-throated  guffaw to mask an anxiety attack.

  “Our own flesh and blood abused his role as a persecutor and bent the rules for his own selfish purposes. Azrael is fortunate if Father ever forgives him, albeit we both know he will. Brother, I know you hold the highest regards for truth and justice, but it was not your place to question an order.”

  You could hear the crude man pacing around the room as he spoke. Hoping to stay unnoticed, you sneaked a peek. The first person you landed eyes on was not at all taller than you, and you supposed that was the first man you’d heard. His hair was silvery, almost platinum blonde, styled in a way that evinced his beautiful forehead. The way he carried himself was elegant and graceful, like a ballerina, and his appearance suited his youthful voice perfectly. The second figure to catch your eye, though, was the complete opposite. Tall, lustrous olive skin and brown hair, he was intimidating at first glance. His steps were heavy on the floor, nearly clumsy.

  “Perhaps there lies the problem. We are never to question, even whilst we deem fit. Azrael is the embodiment of corruption and amorality; it’s consensual, we are well aware. No matter how devious, he is needed. Casting one of the Seven out ought to never be an option. Be that as it may… There are only five of us within the Gates now. Was I supposed to receive graciously the task of exiling our own brother?”

  You were growing considerably annoyed by their choice of words. Why the hell would they be talking like your great-grandparents? All cells in your body were telling you that it was supposed to be cringey, but in reality it was nothing but alluring. Charming. And that’s where all the annoyance came from.

  “It is unwise to go against His instructions. Are you a rebel at heart, Prince?” The man stopped his pacing to let the words tumble out of his mouth, venomous. You could tell by Yoongi’s countenance that he was about to lose his composure, and in a way you were yet to see. His body were trembling slightly in fury, and his lips were compressed together in a well-defined line. You were astounded, however, by his eyes. In that moment, you couldn’t move even if you intended to. They were tinted in a deep violet, just like you had seen before at Jin’s encounter, except that, this time, they hadn’t gone back to black.

  “This has nothing to do with the Rebellion, Raph-“

  “Then why disobey? Do you plan to defy Father as well? It would be entertaining to watch you fight your antithesis for the throne of the underworld,” he chuckled.

  It all happened in an instant, but for you it felt like slow motion. Yoongi was convulsing within himself, as if attempting to refrain a great deal of energy from breaking free. Once you saw blood oozing from his closed fists, you knew it was a lost battle. But never, ever, could you have foreseen what came next, what kind of energy – power – exactly he was trying to repress. For a very brief moment, everything stood still. If you had been able to avert your eyes from him, you’d see the silvery-hair figure shudder. You’d see the faint smirk on the lips of the man who caused Yoongi’s outburst, even though he was, deep down, a tad terrified. But you did not have time, nor will-power, to pay attention to anyone but him, ablaze amethysts shooting daggers at the man before them.

  Then everything came crashing down. Your beliefs, the world as you knew it, it was all taken away ruthless and abruptly once you saw white feathers rip through black shirt. You gasped audibly, falling to the floor with a dull thud as the knife clinked at your feet. None of them noticed, too entranced by the interaction that unrevealed itself. Yoongi got to his prey at an unhuman speed, grabbing him by the throat and caging him against the door. The horrid sound was enough to make you wince through your stupor, and, if it were anybody else, their skull would have cracked. The man, however, only clenched his jaw to suppress a whimper.

  “How dare you speak ill of your Leader like this?” as his voice went down a few octaves, Yoongi’s hold tightened visibly. The man-child seemed as ready to meddle as he would ever be, though still too frightened to actually move. “How dare you, brother, mention the Chief of the Heavenlies in the same breath as his nemesis? Mere one hundred and fifty years, Raphael, and you already built the temerity of being impertinent towards me? Or have you simply forgotten who I am?” his wings were whooshing, as if he was preparing to – quite literally – take flight at any given moment. They were stupendous, bigger than he himself, and so snowy-white, so untainted. Truly immaculate, contrasting with his raven hair.

  His angelic features, albeit glorious, could never outstand the magisterial way to which he spoke, imposing authority. Like he was born for it. Everything about him in that moment urged you to bow before his feet, and you weren’t even the one holding his darkened glare. It was entirely alien to you, a facet of him you could barely conceive, let alone process. Raphael undoubtedly recoiled at his words, but tried to conceal it.

  “Then show me. Do your title justice and lead us to victory, as I know there is no wrath nor passion greater than yours. Not for a moment have I forgotten who you are, Flaming Warrior, but you certainly have.” Raphael spoke, and it fell to the ears like a prayer.

  As Yoongi’s wings retracted once again, you breathed what seemed to be the first intake of air in hours. He slackened his grip on Raphael’s throat, who then bent over in a fit of coughing. The boyish man’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a sigh. Of course, the little truce was bound to be broken the minute one of them laid eyes on you. It happened to be the blonde.

  “Michael, there is a human on your floor,” he whispered, resembling a kid more than ever with his eyes wide open. “Why is there a human on your floor?” he snapped his head, shooting the question directly to Yoongi’s face, and you saw his body stiffen. “Oh, Father! She’s heard our names! Brother…”

  “Silent,” his voice was gruff, and he turned to scrutinize your figure. You weren’t sure of how you looked from the view of an outsider, but you felt… Shock, maybe? Fright? You didn’t know who and what was in front of you, and all you could think was how come his eyes are pitch black now?

  “Yoongi, we violated the law,” the man you now identified as Raphael said.

  “Namjoon,” his eyes never left you as he spoke, “take our brother home and certify yourself that he does not mention today’s events within the Gates.”

  “B-But the protocol-“

  “Does not apply to her, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi cut him off, “If you still need me to fight by your side, that is.”

   He seemed appalled by the perspective of that being an option. “Needless to say, brother, of course we do!”

  “That means I am in charge, then. So, at your superior’s orders, will you be able to keep this to yourself?” Yoongi craned his neck to glance at them through his peripheral vision.

  “If it is what you want, brother,” he mumbled, averting his gaze to the floor in respect.

  “Well, that being the case, I fear we might have to end this dreadful visit already. Notify our soldiers that I am to be expected soon.”

  “Yes, sir,” Raphael responded with a worried frown tainting his beautiful face. He touched the cherubic-like man on the shoulder and they both left the apartment.

  Yoongi’s feet were glued to the floor, the same spot he’d been standing since landing eyes on you. Your breathing was labored and hitched; your throat so dry that it felt like sandpaper. He took a little step forward, slowly stretching one hand in your direction. You let out a low whimper, recoiling until you were almost balled up, knees pressed tight against your chest. He immediately withdrew his arm and flinched.

  “I told you to stay in the bedroom.” His voice was flat, it wasn’t a scold.

  “W-What- What the hell just-“ a sob broke through your throat, and only then did you notice hot tears striking your cheeks. “Y-Yoongi,” you weren’t sure of what to say, let alone if you were actually able to choke a whole sentence out.

  “Are you afraid?”

  Yes.

  Fuck, yes.

  Were you afraid of him, though? Granted, his whole countenance while exerting power over someone else sent chills through down your spine. But that was not the man standing before you now, no.

  “Who are you?” you asked, trying too hard to keep a clear head.

  He straightened his back. “My true name is Michael,” he muttered.

  “You know that’s not what I asked,” you objected.

  “Yes,” he sighed, “I know. Can you keep an open mind?”

  “An open mind?” you scoffed. “I’m here, aren’t I? After seeing a pair of wings growing out of your shoulder blades.”

  “You are,” he chuckled humorlessly. He then walked tentatively in your direction, sitting on the floor as well when he deemed close enough. “I’m one of the Seven.”

  Your face twisted in confusion. Your brain was trying to deny what your subconscious already knew. “Go on.”

  “My brothers and I… we are one of Father’s first creations. Have you ever heard of the seven archangels, George?”

  “Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

  “It’s easier for you to understand, then. We are responsible for maintaining harmony in Heaven. That, occasionally, includes keeping things in order between the Gates and Earth,” he paused, searching for anything in your face that would require him to stop. “I am… let’s say, of great importance to keep the balance between our worlds, including the nether regions. You might have already gathered that I’m their leader, so to speak. I am in charge of all heavenly troupes, every single one of Father’s soldiers is under my command, as well as I am under His. In times of war, I am indispensable. That’s why they call me Warrior Prince; amongst other things.”

  “So it’s… all real?” your voice almost cracked. “Hell, heaven… God?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “Then why are you here?” you murmured under your breath and his expression darkened.

  “Immortality can make you petty. Do you remember meeting Azrael? I guess you know him as Jin. Azrael is… unique. Known as the Persecutor, he was the first reaper to ever exist – created before I was, even. He harvests human souls in due time and delivers them to a realm that suits them best. Paradise, Purgatory or Hell. My brother can be misunderstood very easily; his job has brought to the surface a sadistic persona. We all deal with evil from time to time, it was born in our home, but… Azrael is death, it’s a heavy burden to carry. Infinite lifetimes dealing with the worst sentiments a human can ever experience is bound to leave some scars. He can be mischievous and quite a pain in the ass, to be honest,” he huffed, “but his loyalty is admirable. So, when he made an egocentric mistake, Father reunited us all to discuss the best course of action. Much like a trial, if you will. The point is: they banished him to live amongst his… victims for a certain period of time. I could never agree to that, I believe every single one of the Seven serves a purpose, we are all needed to maintain natural balance.”

  “So you rebelled?”

  “No,” he scowled. “I’m not a rebel, I’m… a nonconformist.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “Not for us, it’s not.”

  “Okay. Then what happened?”

  “It’s a long story, if you want me to explain it correctly.”

  “I do. And you’re everlasting, so I bet we have some time to spare.”

  “Right,” he snorted. “My people is a bit traumatized when it comes to defiance, you probably know why.”

  “Because of the devil, right?”

  “Lucifer deeply despises all of his nicknames. But yeah, he’s the reason. A very long time ago, Father decided to expand our family. My brothers and I were content, but when He presented the idea of more… more of us, more love, we agreed on the spot. See, He was never, ever, the tyrant your kind makes him to be. Until Lucifer, that is. He was… exquisite, my brother. From his birth, each and every angel to exist used to say that Father got inspired by me when creating him, but in a very distinctive way. As much as possible, we were the flip side of each other, although extremely similar still, if that makes sense. With time, our bond grew stronger; we became inseparable. Almost everything we did was in each other’s company: from training in the fields to reading manuscripts under the sunlight. My brothers and I didn’t have much to worry about, it was a very peaceful existence. We had not come to know sin yet.

   Needless to say, it did not last. Because we were oddly alike and yet so different, comparisons were nearly inevitable. I didn’t mind them back then, so I thought he would never take it to the heart either. I was wrong. Lucifer distanced himself slowly but surely, and with each passing day, he tried harder to triumph over me in a childish competition, one that existed strictly in his head. He’d become resentful, and his animosity soon spread like wildfire towards the others, too. None of us were able to comprehend a feeling we had never experienced ourselves, so it took us years to make sense of the situation. By the time we did… I guess it was already too late.

   When Father created your kind, the hierarchy became even more apparent: only us, the archangels, were allowed to interact with humans – even so, only to a certain degree and always serving a purpose. Father wished your… species to stay untouched by our graces. Masterpieces, as long as kept apart, he had said. You see, your people got it terribly wrong. Lucifer was never jealous of humans – in fact, he holds deep contempt for them. He was jealous of us, of me, because my new responsibilities evinced that we had different roles on the chain of command. If rancor was his first sin, fury came to be the second. He endeavored to make a point of how unfair it was of Father to ‘play favorites’ and provide the Seven with greater might. My brother was a very shrewd, intelligent being, but his envy made him blind to a lot of things.

  Lucifer used the following years to spread his beliefs right under our noses, and therefore was able to gather a herd of angels who succumbed to blatant lies just as much as he did. That was the beginning of the rebellion. His ability to lead was remarkable, but he could never be a true leader – not that he intended to, anyway. The reason is pretty obvious: my brother did not care the least about those under his directions, they were means to an end. His main goal was to dethrone the Seven, and for that he forged a deadly weapon: the flaming sword. The uprising initiated a war that none of us were ready for, not even him. For seven days, we fought. For seven days, we continuously killed our own. I suppose you already know the end to that story.”

   You were so fascinated by his narrative that you’d already forgotten the reason he brought up the subject.

  “I think so,” you said. “The real thing is actually so… different from everything I’ve ever heard.”

  “I know. Tales never accomplish the whole truth.”

  “But what does that have to do with the reason you’re here?”

  “Like I said, my kind does not tolerate defiance after everything that happened. When Azrael was sentenced, I didn’t exactly make an effort to hide how I felt about it. They didn’t take it very well, so if you ask any of them why I was exiled, they’ll say it was for disobedience. When, in fact, it was because I reminded them too much of him,” he sighed, and you both fall into a pregnant pause. “How are you taking this?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t have enough time to process yet.”

  “I know,” he twisted a strand of your hair in his slender index finger.

  All of a sudden, a realization fell heavy on your heart.

  “Is your time up?”

  His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

  “Yeah. You said you’d stay here… for a predetermined amount of time. Is that why they came to get you?”

  “No, George,” he let out a puff of air from his nose, “that’s not why they came for me.”

  “Then why?”

  “Think about it. Why would they need their General for?”

  You shook your head, trying to make sense of what he was telling you. Oh.

  “You said you were indispensable in times of…” your whisper faded to an end.

  “War,” he completed.

    ||\\

                                                                                                                                  “While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

      There was a thin layer of snow covering the streets once again. The friction between the tires and the asphalt was barely there, and if the circumstances were different, that would be your main concern. The wind howled as you cut through it like bullets, and you tightened your embrace around his waist, somehow enjoying the numbing air of a cold late-afternoon. Eyes wide opened this time. When he finally parked in front of the porch, you quickly hopped down and took the helmet off, placing it in the seat you had previously taken. Before you could say or do anything, Yoongi seized your wrist with a leather-gloved hand.

  “I’m positively opposed to this,” he blurted in a last attempt to change your mind.

  “I know.” You tried to free yourself from his iron grasp, but to no avail. It was getting easier to read his features, and you could tell he was still unsure. But you were not. “Yoongi, it’s my call.”

  “Don’t I have a say in it?”

  “Ultimately… no.”

  “Want you to be safe, that’s all. Let us be reasonable about this, why don’t you?”

  “I thought you understood better than anyone that I don’t get to be reasonable about this,” you sighed with impatience. “Please, I—”

  “Okay,” he loosened his grip. “I’ll wait here.”

  “Okay.”

  The light was off in the living room, your mother wasn’t home yet. You told yourself that it was better this way. Making a beeline to the stairs, you went over the little list in your head once again before entering your bedroom.

  Set of clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, laptop… What else?

  You looked around, the baby-blue walls somehow mocking you, an excruciating reminder of simpler times. Memories of your childhood swirled inside your mind. All the times you and Taehyung would play hide and seek, the squeals he’d let out whenever you caught him off guard, how he was certainly faster than you, but would let you win a childish race every now and then. The familiar scent of caramel and coffee roaming around the house in the wee small hours of the morning after movie nights, your mom’s chocolate chip pancakes for lunch on Sundays. It all felt like a lifetime ago.

  Hauling your backpack across your shoulder, you had a weird feeling that that was it. That was goodbye. Although Yoongi had promised you’d be back safe and sound in a couple of days, you knew things could go wrong. It was a pondered decision; you were aware of the risks, he’d made sure of it. Still, leaving his side when there was a real possibility that he might not get out alive was just… not conceivable. Logically, you understood that, if things went south, you would not be able to do much. You did not care much for logic these days, anyway.

                                     [Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

  Stepping out of the room and shutting the door as quietly as possible—for no apparent reason—you hopped downstairs two steps at a time, making sure to avoid staring at other parts of the house that could trigger another episode of nostalgia. Too focused on the task of trying not to focus, you missed the six feet tall barricade blocking the entrance to the living room, crashing into it face-first. If it wasn’t for the unrelenting grip keeping you in place, you would’ve certainly hit the floor.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the flat baritone voice resonated throughout the empty space.  

  Of course. You closed your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before even contemplating lifting your head to make eye contact.

  “Do you need something?” in a poor attempt to shield yourself, you parroted his dead intonation.

  “Do I need something,” he hummed. Then he chuckled, fists clenching around your forearms. “Are you leaving?” he spat. “What about your mom, huh?”

  “It’s just a couple of days. I’ll call her.”

  By the scowl plastered on his face, your dismissive attitude hadn’t worked the way you planned it to. You had to do this quick, like ripping off a bandage. If anyone could give you a run for your money in this situation, that would be Taehyung. You knew he’d try to persuade you into staying, so you couldn’t risk it. For both your sakes.

  “I see,” he remarked. “Were you planning to tell me you’re running off with your boyfriend or you’d just leave me to figure it out on my own?”

  His venomous words burned out of his mouth at lightning speed, tainting his tongue with a pungent aftertaste.

  “You know I would never do something like that,” the hurt that laced your voice was evident, but, maybe for the first time, it didn’t make him feel half as bad as it should.

  “Do I?” he scoffed. “For the past few months, it feels like you’ve already left. Wouldn’t make much of a difference if you actually did, I guess.”

  That did it. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you were determined to not let them fall.

  “Okay, I’m not doing this,” you whispered, not trusting your voice enough to speak properly, and pulled your arms out of his grasp roughly. You darted for the closed front door, feeling sick to your stomach at the thought of spending another minute inside the house. He clutched your shirt tightly, as if it was a lifeboat.

  “Wait,” his fists clenched tighter. You could sense him getting closer, but you didn’t have the guts to turn around and face him just yet. He buried his face on your right shoulder, holding your hip now, nails bound to leave little crescent moons on your skin. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “I hate this.”

  Your heart ached. You hated it, too. Pushing Taehyung away was never your intention, but you finally came to understand all the times Yoongi had kept a safe distance before. To keep you safe. You couldn’t risk it, not with Marzipan.

  “It’s fine, Tae.”

  “It’s not,” he shook his head, brushing his nose on the fabric of your blouse. Inhaling deeply, he moved to the nape of your neck. You shuddered. “None of this is fine,” a peck on the bare skin of your neck, and your entire body tensed.

  “Taehyung…” you warned.

  “Don’t,” he begged, turning you around. You were adamant on avoiding his gaze, so your eyes kept darting between your feet and your hands. “Don’t go.”

  While he rested his forehead on yours, one hand on your cheek and the other thumbing your collarbone, you knew what was about to happen. You knew, and, still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You knew, but it was Taehyung, your best friend. Marzipan, the little boy from the house next door. Boxy smile, disheveled hair, sweet-toothed Taehyung. How wrong could it be? You were saying goodbye to a part of your own soul. How wrong could it be?

  When his lips touched yours, soft and ravenous, you really wanted it to feel right. But the answer to your previous question was: too wrong. You loved him, yes. But he wasn’t him. Didn’t taste the same, didn’t feel the same. His movements weren’t slow yet demanding, his hand wasn’t drawing invisible patterns on your lower back, his smell wasn’t musky enough. It just didn’t feel right.

  “Tae,” you tried to end the kiss, but he led his mouth back to yours like in a trance, nibling on your lower lip. “Taehyung, stop!”

  By the end of it, you were both panting. It dawned you how big of a mistake you had just made, and guilt made you nauseous. Neither of them deserved what you’d just done, neither of them deserved to have their hearts broken because you were such a fuck up.

  “I-I’m so sorry, Tae,” your voice cracked. He was about to answer, but you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t breathe, your skin was on fire and there was a big, nasty lump in your throat. You bolted out the door, only to be met with Yoongi’s inquiring gaze. It seemed to have broken a damn, and heavy tears tumbled down your cheeks. He rushed to meet you halfway, brushing the tears away as soon as his hands reached your face.

  “Hey,” he shushed you. “What happened, baby?”

  “Can we go home, please?”

 The crease between his furrowed eyebrows deepened, but still, he chose not to pry any further.

  “Of course, love. Of course we can,” he softly muttered, although still hesitant to take his hands off you.

  You climbed onto the familiar grey motorcycle and hid your damped cheeks on his jacket. The beast rumbled, gaining speed as you cut through the air. The ghost of Taehyung’s lips on yours haunting you the entire way back.

[mysoftboybensolo]

The Alienist and the Soprano

Chapter 13: The Holidays

A/N: This was inspired by Laszlo’s love of opera and my thought on what if he fell for an opera singer. Multi chapter. Canon divergence, there is no Mary Palmer here (I loved Mary and Laszlo, so I don’t feel like I could have her here and have him be with another woman). A mix of show and book canons. No Y/N, OC named Evelina Lind.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029150

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x Fem OC!

Summary: The last thing Laszlo Kreizler ever expected while investigating the death of children was to fall in love, and with an opera singer no less!

Warnings: Age gap, Victorian Christmas, mentions of past abuse, but much fluff! I had done my research on what Christmas was like back then, as well as the Hanukah dates and it seems 1897 was a big year; “Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” was published in September of 1897, electric Christmas lights were growing in popularity and the unification of the boroughs in New York was official on New Years. And there is your history lesson of the day.

The air grew colder as Laszlo and Evelina’s relationship grew warmer. Evelina was spending more time with the team, just as Laszlo was becoming more and more acquainted with Evelina’s opera friends. Compared, they were a more rambunctious group, and she knew that Laszlo had his limits, but admired him for trying so hard. Maria often helped Laszlo along when Evelina was not by his side and he felt immensely grateful to her for guiding him through the corral. At first, her opera friends hadn’t been sure of Laszlo, unsure of this man who makes a living in psychoanalyzing people, who didn’t seem to fit in anywhere, but they always caught the spark of joy in his eyes when Evelina came beside him, the way he tried so hard for her. Even if he couldn’t keep up with them, they still saw the utter devotion between the pair and that was enough for them to approve the relationship.

It was a time for the singers to rest themselves for The Nutcracker to be performed, and a real treat for them all. It had done so well last Christmas that the opera house had decided to do it again, and who knows, perhaps it will become a Christmas tradition.

As November closed in, Evelina had been helping Sara scout out locations for her new agency, hoping that she’ll find it before the weather turned too cold to be out scouting. As they looked around a space, Evelina asked Sara a few questions. “What will you require of your workers to do?”

“Just as any other detective agency will have, secretaries, detectives. Roosevelt has agreed to let the officers help us whenever we need it, which must mean he bears no ill will towards my leaving. Hmm, no, too small. I need at least four rooms; this will not do.” They stepped out into the cool air, leaving them both to shiver. “Winter certainly is coming, there is no doubt.”

“Yes, that shall mean Christmas!” Evelina replied excitedly. “It’s my favorite time of year. Everything looks so magical with the snow and the good cheer, and of course the music.”

“Well, then you might convince Laszlo to have a party this year. He doesn’t celebrate it, at least, from what I have known of him. I wonder if it comes from an unhappy memory,” Sara mused.

“Then I shall make it my duty to give him a Christmas full of happiness. The opera will be performing The Nutcracker, perhaps I will invite him to a performance then have a party. It’ll only be a small affair, you, John, and the Isaacson Brothers.”

Sara looked at her strangely then asked, “You are aware that they are Jewish, don’t you?”

“I am more than aware, in fact, I know that it starts on the nineteenth of December and ends on the twenty-seventh. And it doesn’t have to necessarily be a Christmas party, but a holiday party. A celebration of simply being together and friends. Surely, Laszlo couldn’t object to that.”

Wrapping her arm around Evelina’s, Sara couldn’t help but to smile. “Not when you put it that way, he wouldn’t.”

Laszlo visited just shortly after the ladies returned home, feeling too frozen to go any further. “And how has the property hunting been going for you?”

Sara groaned, “Don’t mention it. It feels as if I am never going to find the perfect place. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to get myself a good stiff drink,” she huffed as she went off to the kitchen, leaving Evelina and Laszlo alone in the den.”

Now was the perfect time for her to ask the question. “Laszlo, Christmas is coming soon, and I was wondering what it is that you do for the holidays?”

“Well, Christmas Eve, I spend it with the children who are left behind at the institute, watch them open their gifts in the morning then return home for a quiet day in.”

“Oh, Laszlo,” she said, “I love that you take care of your children, but what about yourself? Doesn’t it get to be a bit lonely?”

He pursed his lips in thought then said, “Well, yes, I suppose, but it was better than what I used to have when I was younger. Those were the better days. We hosted a fine Christmas party, my father was at his best and my mother wore her finest, and the house looked like a picture book. But” he said, with matter-of-fact tone, “When the party was over, it wasn’t so picturesque.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she softly affirmed.

“No, I want to, and we promised, no secrets.” It was true, after the absolute confusion that came from not sharing their feelings and the disaster that followed, they had agreed that nothing would be held back. “Santa was not something told in my household, but rather the fear of God. He’d make me read the bible which involved the birth of Christ, but any little flaw, hesitation or stutter and he’d beat me while calling me a blasphemer for ruining the scripture.”

She wanted to ask how that was better than the usual days, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. “My mum died just a week before Christmas, and to celebrate it without her was awful. Winston was not manageable during those times,” she paused after the mention of her brother, and Laszlo saw a flash of pain in her eyes. “When he was locked up, that first Christmas, my father broke down, he felt he had broken his promise to my mother in keeping the family together. Even though I told him that he was not to blame for Winston’s actions, every year after, I could see the echo of pain in his eyes. This will be my first Christmas without any of them.”

Laszlo lifted his hand, unsure if he ought to reach out and comfort her, and knowing that she’d not only appreciate it, but that he’d have to get used being open with another, he placed a hand on top of hers, which rested on her lap. It was the right move to do, as it had made her smile and lean in to rest her head against his shoulder. Laszlo felt a small surge of pride in himself, he was doing better in showing intimacy and he liked it.

Having a party to plan helped to fill Evelina’s free time from the opera, but most importantly, it allowed her the chance to make a surprise for Laszlo. Thanks to her covert cleverness, she found out which children will be spending Christmas at the institute and with the permission of the staff, she managed to pull them together to work on a surprise for him. They nearly got caught once, Laszlo came back from a meeting a bit sooner than Evelina expected, but she managed to play it off well, saying that she had been bored and wanted to play the piano for the children.

Stevie proved to be rather helpful in preparing Christmas at Laszlo’s home and was more than happy to be commissioned by Evelina to help with the planning. He scoured out the best decorations and the best tree to have standing in Laszlo’s den, and when he was finished with it, even he could admit he did a rather fine job. There was one thing that Laszlo had a hand in the decorations, and it was the purchase of these new electric string lights, meant to replace candles, and it was a smart choice, and in Evelina’s words, magical. As Stevie was busy with the decorations, Evelina was off to work with the invites and the Isaacson Brothers were surprised to say the least but were still very pleased to be invited to such a party, knowing how much it meant to her. Sara had been the first unofficial guest invited and John most certainly was not one to pass up a party.

Christmas Eve arrived and Evelina dressed herself in her green and red velvet walking gown, truly getting into the spirit and went to the institute to see Laszlo. Many of the parents came to take their children home for the holidays and as much as it was a wonderful sight to see parents not forsake their little ones, it was doubly heartbreaking to see those few whose parents never came. It was Laszlo and Evelina’s special mission to make sure that they still received the experience that they would have had if they were home, even carrying on the duty of decorating the tree and great hall for the children to enjoy. Most of the staff could go home to spend it with their family, but there were a few who did not have a family of their own who stayed and happily joined in the festivities with the children.

Daylight had gone when was a surprise waiting at the front door, and who would have guessed that Santa would come and see the children of the Kreizler Institute? Watching John all dressed up as Santa was a delight, especially when the younger children climbed on his lap and gave “Santa” a hug and wished him a Merry Christmas. It didn’t take much convincing, for John thought it a wonderful idea and he could not say no to Evelina’s sweet intentions, even if it made him look a bit silly. Sara was the unofficial Mrs. Claus, dressed in her lovely green evening gown and many of the children loved going up to her and asking questions of the North Pole, truly convinced that she was indeed the wife of Santa. She watched John take in the children’s excitement with great stride and enjoyment and thought it the finest thing she had ever seen, and her heart swelled at the thought of him doing this for the children.

When John and Sara left, it was time to show off Evelina’s surprise. Gathering the children up, she sat at the piano and began to play. Laszlo watched with wonder and love as Evelina led the children in a most heavenly rendition of Ding Dong Merrily On High, the children looked so happy to be a part of something. He wasn’t even bothered by the religious overtones of the song; he just enjoyed the sweet voices that sang in perfect harmony and was touched to see that his love put so much effort into surprising him.

Soon, it got to be bedtime and the children were escorted back their rooms, eagerly awaiting Santa’s arrival and the staff to their rooms. Usually, Laszlo was the only one to take up the duty of stuffing the stockings and providing the children with gift, making sure each one got an equal amount from Santa. Evelina stayed with him and happily helped to stuff the stockings, despite her own sleepiness. It was an endearing sight, the pair of them on the floor, helping to stuff stockings and wrap presents.

“How long have you done this?”

“Ever since the institute was opened. It was quite sad to see those children left behind to have nothing, so I made sure to carry on the tradition of Santa. You may think that I do not agree with the idea of telling fantastical stories to children, but I think it is important in the development of a child. It stimulates their creativity as well as teaches them lessons.”

Evelina smiled and started with, “Don’t laugh, but I still believe in Santa. Oh, I don’t mean that there is an actual person who goes about in a flying sleigh and gives presents to all children around the world, but the idea of him. Do you remember back in September there was that article answering a little girl’s question of if there was a Santa? That article was a wonderful summation of how I feel about Santa. How there is someone who can be full of good cheer and selflessness and the possibility that we could be just like him. Like this, right now. The fact that you go out of your way to make sure these children have a merry Christmas, to never make them feel left out, it is very Kris Kringle of you. And I am sure you’d look dashing in red.” His deep blush only proved her right.

It was nearing midnight when they had finished and left the institute and despite the chill, they walked through the snowy streets, enjoying the calm and winter beauty. “I am sorry if this wasn’t what you had imagined you’d spend your Christmas Eve.”

“Indeed, it was far better than I could hope. To help give children a good time, to create magic and now walking home with you, it is wonderful.” The church bells tolled, and they stopped to listen to the lovely knells as it chimed Christmas day. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”

Laszlo smiled, knowing that she gave him at last an endearment. “Frohe Weihnachten, meine liebe.”

Laszlo came to pick up Evelina early on Christmas day so she could be at the institute before the children woke and watch with Laszlo as they opened their gifts from Santa as well as from Laszlo himself. She loved the glimmer in his eyes when looking at the children enjoying themselves, forgetting their woes and problems, glad to see that they would have a normal childhood that he never had. Once he was sure that the children were taken care of, the pair went off to enjoy Christmas themselves. It had been purely coincidental, but Laszlo wore his dashing green vest and tie while Evelina wore her lovely red satin dress, looking as if they had coordinated with the holiday and each other, anyone who didn’t know them would have been certain they were husband and wife.

The party was beginning at noon, giving time to everyone that was coming to enjoy their morning and get ready to spend it together. Sara had been the first to arrive, no surprise, the Isaacson Brothers came, Marcus brought along his dear Esther and her daughter, and then John. Laszlo had almost thought that all the guest had arrived, when Stevie entered and said, “We’ve got two more guests!”

Laszlo looked perplexed, for who else could come, and Evelina watched in amusement as his mouth fell agape as Cyrus walked in with his niece, Joanna, looking rather fine in their Sunday best. Laszlo jumped up from his seat and went to his old employee and friend. “Cyrus! How are you? I didn’t know you were coming.”

“No, but Miss Lind did. Stevie brought Miss Lind to my work and she had personally invited me to the party, as well as Joanna. It was wonderful of her to come to me personally.”

Evelina stood and warmly greeted Cyrus and Joanna. “I am so glad you came. Laszlo told me so much of you and I just had to properly get to know his dear friend.”

“And I am honored to know the woman who could convince him to throw such a party,” Cyrus laughed heartily.

Evelina had been a wonderful hostess, making sure everyone had been attended to, even making sure Stevie felt welcomed in the celebrations and had helped Lucius feel a bit more at ease with the help of Joanna, of which the pair seemed quite intrigued by each other. Laszlo watched in wonder of how she could manage to move around with grace, kindness and energy when he still had difficulty to be as open to those of whom he feels are his friends. He admired her and was honored to be the man of whom she loved above others.

The afternoon was spent playing games, Blind Man’s Bluff, Yes and No, and Charades. Laszlo had sat out of Blind Man’s Bluff, but allowed himself to be dragged into Charades and Yes and No. He was afraid of appearing to look ridiculous, but Evelina argued that everyone was doing the same, so they all looked the same amount of ridiculousness. The luncheon was informal, people made their own plates and sat around Laszlo’s den, like they all were old friends, and it was a kind of homey feeling that Laszlo had never felt before, it was warm, safe, good.

It would not be a good party without a mistletoe, at least according to John, who hung it over his friend’s head and teased that someone ought to kiss him or else he will. Evelina more than happily rose to the challenge, making it the second kiss that the pair had shared. She challenged John to hang it over his head and get a kiss, or else he’ll have to kiss the lizard at the institute, and just as she hoped, Sara decided to help him out by placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, but he turned on accident and the pair had kissed on the lips. The blush on their faces told so much and Evelina buried her face in Laszlo’s chest to try and stop her smile from being noticed, but she spotted something beyond him. Moving towards it, she couldn’t help but to admire the beautiful piano. Laszlo came up beside her and said, “You may play on it whenever you wish. It’ll be nice to see that old thing getting some use. I haven’t played in so long.”

“You played?” She had never known that Laszlo used to play, at least before the incident.

“Yes. I was quite good.”

“Better than good,” Sara interjected, coming in the conversation, hoping to escape her situation. “His name was in all the papers; he could have been a great pianist.”

“Why don’t we do gifts?” Evelina suggested, hoping to prevent Laszlo from falling into his darker thoughts, and she excitedly handed out her gifts. They weren’t expensive gifts, but they were heartfelt and personal to each, and that meant more than anything in the world, even Stevie, who hadn’t expected to get a gift and didn’t usually like to be sentimental, but even he couldn’t refuse the copy of An Anarchic Adventure by Jules Verne, his favorite author. Laszlo had received a copy of The Psychology of Emotions by Théodule-Armand Ribot, of whom Laszlo had been fascinated with.

Laszlo made himself go last, giving everyone incredible gifts; Stevie getting his very first shaving kit as he was now a young man, Esther and her daughter fine new dresses, to name a few, and lastly went to Evelina, giving her a box. When she opened it, it was a beautiful toiletry box, made of a dark wood and lined with pink velvet. Opening one of the drawers, she noticed two large and full bottles of her perfume, ‘Fantasia de Fleurs’. “Oh, Laszlo! This is too much! And on top of that, two bottles of my perfume?”

“It is not too much,” he countered, “And besides, it is for selfish reasons too, for I love your scent, perhaps a bit too much,” he admits with a blush across his cheeks. “No one else should buy this for you but myself.”

It was true; when she did first receive this, it was meant to be a bribe gift from one of the patrons at the opera, but she loved the scent too much to toss it away. To have Laszlo buy it for her not only was sweet, but intimate, and she liked that he felt way, wanting no other to buy her perfumes. Sara had been the one to inform which perfume it was and told Laszlo that she had mentioned about getting a box of her own, and he made sure to get the finest box with the two largest bottles so she wouldn’t have to.

The Isaacson Brothers had left with their guests and just before everyone was to go off on their own, Evelina made sure to have a few carols played and sung. John and Sara had quite nice voices which blended very well together, Cyrus deep and warm, and Joanna and Stevie wholeheartedly sang. Laszlo’s voice was not deep or powerful, but it was soft and comforting, and it sounded wonderful to hear him sing Silent Night in German, a request that Evelina had asked, and he did only for her. When he sang, all stopped and listened, and all Laszlo could see or know was Evelina, playing the piano, with a grace and power that reminded him of his youth. Instead of painful memories, it made him smile and happy.

Cyrus and his niece left to have dinner with their family, John to his grandmother’s, leaving Sara and Stevie to join Evelina and Laszlo to the opera for The Nutcracker. This had been Stevie’s first time to the opera and the wonder in his eyes was so enduring and how he watched as the story enfolded before his eyes. In the dark of the auditorium, Evelina had reached her hand over to Laszlo’s, and held it. He looked over at her and wordlessly, he thanked her for a wonderful Christmas.

The good cheer from Christmas continued to carry on for the next few days as New Year’s was approaching and for good reason. The New York government had made the decision to unite the five boroughs of the city to create what would be nicknamed “Greater New York” and it was a wonderful reason to celebrate.

It was a momentous occasion, one that Evelina wished to see and thanks to Laszlo’s influence, they managed to watch it all happen close by and safe away from the mad crowd and the pouring rain. As the New Year rang, everyone watched in wonder as fireworks blasted in the sky, cannons fired, steamboats blowing their horns and brass bands played their hearts out, for when the new year rang, the new flag had unfurled over city proclaiming it’s celebration, the birth of the City of New York.

“Oh, darling,” Evelina gasped, “Just think, we are lucky to have seen this happen. To see a city come together as one, it’s beautiful!”

Laszlo wrapped his arms around Evelina’s waist and placed his head in the crook of her neck as they watched the city celebrate outside, “1898 shall be a happy year. I am sure of it.” She turned her head and shared their third kiss but first kiss of their new year and turned back to watch the merriment.

It then struck him right then and there, something that he thought would never be possible, something he’d never have, and yet it was here in his arms, and he would not let it go so easily. Now, it was just the matter of asking the question.

Tagging: @monsieurbruhl​ @cazzyimagines​, @scuttle-buttle​, @violetmuses​ @flutterskies​ @sokoviandelights​ @rumblelibrary​ @fictionlandslanddreams​ @somethingthatsaysbubbles​ @alindeluce​  and @barnesxnobles

[straight-into-the-animus]

Meet Me Halfway (Alexios x F!Reader)

For @alexandra-alle who requested for the Valentine’s Day Playlist Challenge something inspired by the song Meet Me Halfway by the Black Eyed Peas for an Alexios x Female Reader. I’m sorry it took so long but I hope it’s worth the wait!

Warnings: Mentions of blood, spoilers for halfway through the game (starts after the second italic section)

The first time you met the Eagle-Bearer, he had saved you from a wild boar.

People always saw the past clearer than they saw the present, you were aware. Looking in the past, it was very easy to see the flaws in the idea of going looking for ingredients when most people with sense were asleep. But something in your mind gave the idea that to get there earlier than everyone else, a whole night earlier, you would be able to get some of the better roots and plants and have a better store to start later in the day with preparing. It made sense at the time… until you were being charged and tried to climb up a tree in sandals that had nothing to them, closing your eyes and holding on as if it were the leg of Hermes himself.

A sickly squelch, a squeal of pain, and then silence, aside from the sounds of your heart thudding wildly in your chest. Grass swayed and crunched under boots, and a voice eventually broke through the night, deep and concerned.

“Are you hurt?”

“...No.” You got out, cracking an eye open and looking down at the side to see a man looking up at you with deep brown eyes that even you could make out in the darkness. A broken spear was in his right hand, covered up to the elbow in blood, but the other seemed to hesitantly reach out and up to help catch you. You hoped the flush was hidden and realized how little your chiton actually hid as it rode up where you hugged the tree, but accepted the help gratefully.

“Thank you… Misthios, I can assume?”

“You may call me Alexios. Or the Eagle-Bearer. Many call me either.” He smiled a bit, and you couldn’t help but somewhat return it, glancing from his face to the spear to the boar and back within a few seconds.

“Whatever I call you, you’ve saved my life, and I must thank you properly for that. Let me take you to my house so I may look at your wounds and pay you.”

A look of surprise almost seemed to flash on the misthios’ face for a second before he nodded slowly; though this time, you were able to catch the smallest smile on the corner of his mouth which stayed for longer. “If you must insist.”

---------------

It had begun that night, and it had never stopped. There was no need to, no want or desire to. You realized a long time ago, since that night, that waiting was the worst part. You were getting frighteningly used to the feeling after a few years, but every now and then it would hit you in the chest as if it were a deadly arrow straight from a soldier. But even if you somehow found yourself getting used to it, you also found your feet sometimes straying a bit far out of the safety of the walls of the city in the morning to go stand by the docks and examine the ships, to watch for sails arising on the east horizon with Apollo’s sun.

At the same time, there had been many nights like tonight where you had spent overlooking from hills and mountains thinking it would afford you a better view, taking a bit too long to gather herbs for your practices and healings as you watched the ships come and go. It was becoming too dark to see, the night gently starting to overtake your vision, and with sadness you were starting to overtake, you left back for the city.

He had warned you when he had first met you, warned you many times he was dangerous -- how could he be dangerous when he spoke so sweetly --, and liable to hurt you -- but he touched you softly so you didn’t understand that --, but he had warned you how long he would be gone for, how his visits could be so short in comparison, always on his journey that Odysseus would envy, but you had listened… reluctantly.

“I almost think you simply don’t want me coming along because I’m a woman.”

“Hmm?” Alexios cracked an eye open, finger still tracing patterns you couldn’t discern in between your shoulder blades. They left prickles in their wake, and shivers down your body in pleasure, but you willed yourself to ignore them and propped yourself on your elbow to look at him. The fact that you were both bare hardly mattered.

“I might not know how to fight, but my father taught me everything possible from the gentle Asklepios I would need. I could come along, I would be useful to you. Could likely keep you out of trouble. And stop any more of these from happening…” It was your turn to touch as you reached down to his right side, running your fingers on a still healing scar, pink and white against the olive color of his skin. He let you have your fill of it before grasping your hand gently, so gentle between rough fingers, and bringing it to his mouth to kiss it.

“And if something were to happen to you that I could not stop…” He shook his head, and you knew with a sinking heart that there would be no more discussion. All you could do was make sure he knew how much he was loved, and take every bit of love that you could from him to warm yourself before it would eventually be gone in a few days. What else could you do when you loved the Eagle-Bearer? Nothing else at all.

---------------

In hindsight, the door being open a bit more than you remember leaving it was cause for alarm, but your mind was still cloudy from the thoughts of earlier in the day and it didn’t sink in until the door properly closed behind you and you turned to make sure it was secure.

“Y/N?”

You jumped a bit, a small gasp and shout mixing in your throat as you spun around and took in Alexios in the center of the house, who looked just as startled and reflexively jumped.

“Dear Gods, Alexios, I-”

“I meant to surprise- Are you alright?”

“I think so.” You leaned against your door, closing your eyes and placing a hand over your heart to will it to stop beating. You took a breath before opening your eyes and making sure it really was it, that it wasn’t imagination working itself into a frenzy over him.

But then he moved a bit closer, and you could take in all the little parts about him; the scars on his bicep, the warm glow of his skin illuminated in the fire he must have started while you were gone, how you could make out every thread in his clothes and crack in his leather armor. And though part of you knew it was difficult, that you shouldn’t, you couldn’t help but to reach out to him at the same time he did you and hold onto him, hugging him close and burying your face into him.

“I missed you, my love.” His hand stroked through your hair, and you took in a deep breath, inhaling him and allowing yourself to be surrounded by it.

“I missed you as well.” You said quietly, and you meant it. “What brings you back? A Cultist? News about your family?”

He stiffened just a bit out of habit, apparently still holding onto that as a wound too raw to be picked on, but you held on tighter for reassurance before pulling away to look him in the eyes.

“It goes well on that front. I have… I might have found word on where my mother is. I will sail there soon. There was simply a great deal of loss in Athens recently, I…” He shook his head and your heart sank and all the words you felt he couldn’t say, or that he wouldn’t say. Something had brought him here, and though it pained you, you knew you were still here. You liked healing the body and the spirits as well. Before you could even offer anything, he spoke again. “I came back because I thought of what you said. Of our last…”

And you knew what he meant.

There had been too much anger in your last meeting, too much pain once you parted, and you never wanted that to tinge any of these little things you had. The last time you saw him had been months back. When he had entered late one night and saw the things left for you. Heard the aftermath of what was said.

“I have waited, Alexios, but it is difficult still. Two years, and people speak. Men look. Do you even have anything to say?”

“I’ve said I’m sorry, there’s not much else-”

“You can say you’ll stop this and stay, or you can take me with you.”

He had been unable to make that decision back then, and though your heart had ached for him since then, still ached for him… It was hard to be in his arms now, without anything that seemed real otherwise.

“I meant what I said, Alexios.” You started off, quiet but sure as you stayed at arm’s length. Your hands gripped his tightly, drawing strength as much as you tried to give it to him. “I love you, you know that. But I can’t sit and wait.”

“I know. I can’t make you.” Fear almost passed through your heart at the way he sounded, the quiet tone of his voice, and you felt your breath catch before you quickly cut in.

“I want to go with you, Alexios. Please. Let’s… Let’s sit. We can speak on Athens. Come.” You led him near the fire and had him sit down, sitting across from him as well, back straight. He would not leave tonight like this, broken and saddened, and you knew that. “Tell me everything.”

The plague in Athens had reached every corner of Greece, you all knew about it. But to hear the truth, about the Cult -- and you only knew the barest details from what you pried out of Alexios when he was willing to share -- and about their puppet, his sister being in the center of everything to murder Perikles, to take out Athens itself… You couldn’t help but be shaken a little bit as he told you the story. It was completely dark out as he told you the story, everything silent both outside the house and in, before he spoke again.

“Now do you see why I was always scared for you to come with me, Y/N? My heart, I cannot bear- If I lost you…”

“I won’t lie and say I’m not frightened, Alexios. But only for you, not because of them.” I’m frightened of what might happen to you. This is why I wanted to come with you. Did you ever think I might be safer with you, where you could protect me, than alone and away from you?” You crept closer to him, the floor hard under your knees, but you were spared as you came closer and on top of his lap, into warmth. “You don’t have to do it by yourself, my love. I want to be there. Let me be there.”

He studied you, brown eyes creased with new lines, but also full of a new understanding that wasn’t there in these past discussions.

“Allow me to be here tonight for now. We can talk more in the morning. But…”

“I understand.” You nodded.

And you would both talk, you knew. You would talk until you couldn’t any more. And you would hold each other until it felt as if you were in the same body, never to be parted again even when you would eventually be forced to let go. But now, to be here, and to know that soon your life could very well be full of these moments very soon… How wonderful it sounded. And how worth it it would all be, how you swore you would make it.

I hope you enjoyed! This was part of the Valentine’s Day Playlist Challenge, details/info for how to request your own can be found on the bolded link above.  I have a Masterpost here and more unrelated ideas for writings and prompts here, so feel free to request! If you’d like to support me, I have a ko-fi here but absolutely no pressure on that front. Have a wonderful day!

[missskzbiased]

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Love You

Genre: Romance , Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader  X Han X OC

WC: ~ 4,1K

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Masterlist

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness (?) 

*Not all chapters have these but I’m letting this like general because as a series I think it’s better if I warn all of them at once instead of warning out of nowhere since I’ve already written some chapters*

Notes: The “Angst/Hurt/Confort” is related to the plot and how the characters will build their relationship, therefore it’ll be mentioned more than once through the chapters. Although I don’t think I made it really distressing nor anything like that, please be aware of the Warnings if you don’t feel comfortable with the themes <3

This is an EXTREMELY slow burn, if you don’t like those, I don’t think you’ll enjoy the fanfic  :’(

Updates: I’ll update it once a week because I still have to write the chapters to come and review the ones I already wrote

                                                    ////

   Hate: a) To feel extreme enmity towards something or someone: Regard with active hostility; b) To have a strong aversion: Find very distasteful.

   Regarding all emotions someone could ever feel, you didn’t think something could be more powerful than hatred.

    What in the world could be more powerful than disliking someone to the point you couldn’t even stand their presence? It meant you would prefer to leave rather than stay. Nothing could ever beat that. Nothing. People could do insane things moved by it. Things no one should ever think about doing nor do at all for that matter. Things that could hurt and destroy everything around someone’s life.

   Even though common sense stated love was blind, you thought that maybe hate was blinder… Maybe hate was the one who blinded love. Who knew? You were sure hatred moved people to do the undoable. So what could be a better answer to your professor’s question? What was the most powerful feeling in the world?

   “Fear” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him. You didn’t know if it was the black hair, the dark eyes, or that pretty face everyone felt the urge to ogle but somehow Hyunjin had that funny effect on people around him. It was like people needed to hear him, like he held some kind of mesmerizing voice that made people believe he was a wise man on a young body.

   He wasn’t.

   “How is fear greater than hate?” You scoffed, wondering why people looked at him like he knew what he was talking about “I never saw someone actively doing something because of fear but people actually make decisions based on hatred” You pointed out, smirking at him. Hyunjin couldn’t possibly retort you because you were right, and sooner or later he would have to admit it.

   “I believe you didn’t quite understand the professor’s question, my dear” He had this ridiculous accent like he was British when he clearly wasn’t, and you couldn’t help but grimace at him before he continued “He asked what is the most powerful emotion not what emotion prompt people to do something… I must say that if an emotion paralyzes you to the point you can’t make a decision ─ as you pointed out yourself─ it must be quite powerful, don’t you agree?” He had that smug look on his face, suggesting he thought he had won your argument, and you would gladly wipe that smug grin out of there if Paris didn’t interrupt you.

   “Excuse me but I think it’s love” Her voice sounded polite even though you knew she thought Hyunjin was being dumb “If fear is something that paralyzes someone and that is your argument for power, I think love can beat fear, so it’s obviously more powerful” She stated, not bothering to defend her arguments.

  Typical Paris.

   “In what world love beats fear?” He jeered, looking at her as if she was growing a third head “I’m sorry to disappoint you, darling, but life isn’t a fairy-tale” He pouted mockingly.

  What a despicable guy.

  “It’s well known that love can make someone so eager to protect another thing that you could simply ignore your fears and get stronger. Mothers can lift a car to free their child, soldiers can fight harder if they have someone to go back to! And if you consider the paralyzing feeling, knowing love can beat this would mean it’s stronger than fear… When you love you can do or give up on doing things just to be able to protect something you love” She stated proudly before you looked at your professor expecting his verdict.

   Like on cue, the bell rang, announcing your class was over.

   And so did he, waving dismissively to all of you to go.

   Great, so it was a kind of philosophical game for him.

   Your pointless argument ended up with nothing but a bunch of opinions you couldn’t say was right; and when it came to insisting on being right there was just one person in this world you could say you almost hated… Hyunjin. He came to you with his signature─ a smug grin that made you want to punch his face every day─, getting in your way to pack your things as he picked up one of your pencils, spinning it between his fingers. You didn’t even make the effort to ask it back, settling for extending your palm up, so he would give it back to you.

   “Paris may have a point but I beat you” Should you punch his face for real someday? Probably not. You should keep good grades and a perfect image so you could keep your scholarship. What a pity. You shook your hand once, a silent ask for your pencil again, and this time he put it on your palm, leaning closer as he braced himself on the desk, trying to be seductive or something “What? Are you so upset you lost to me you don’t even want to talk anymore?” He said in a mocking tone that made you glare at him.

   “Even when I’m right I don’t want to talk to you” You reminded him, throwing your bag’s strap on your shoulder “Let’s go, Paris, Chan said He was going to have lunch with us today” You took her hand and guided her to the door, walking fast so you could leave Hyunjin behind but he, unfortunately, was right on your tail.

   “It’s funny because I recall you bragging every time you’re right and I’m not hearing it now” He said, easily picking up your pass, since his legs were way longer than yours “I guess you don’t want to talk to me because you lost again” Oh god, how could he be so insufferable?! You trailed your eyes around the stairs, looking for Chan on the crowd.

   Thankfully, there he was.

   Chan was a fine guy, as anyone with two functioning eyes could see or at least guess since a lot of girls were staring at him. He was waiting in the corner, his arms crossed on his chest and his bored eyes looking at the floor while he waited for you, his dark hair falling on his eyes, obliging him to run his fingers into his locks, looking charming in the eyes of the girls ogling him. You chuckled as you saw him eyeing them disgusted, clearly bothered by people looking at him doing nothing like he was some kind of idol or something.

   “Hey, Sweety!” You shouted, making him roll his eyes at the nickname that symbolized your friendship. It was the first name you ever called him, a sarcastic remark for the typical rich guy he was, a pretty and spoiled bastard.

   The circumstances you met weren’t the best ones but somehow they worked in your favor.    

   You were working hard on pilling some boxes ─ all of them with a “fragile” sticker that made you very aware about the possibility of losing your job if you dropped one of them─, so it was only natural you were pissed as hell when someone dropped all of them at once. As if he didn’t have anything better to do, Chan stood with his right hand raised to blame, a smirk plastered on his face as he said “Ops! Sorry, Sweety” making his dumb friends laugh at you.

    You couldn’t say you were a typical rich girl especially because you were, in fact, quite poor, so your antics were totally justified by the need you had to keep your job on your hands and change your paradigm.

   It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone with a brain but he had to pay for the losses.

      So you shot him a tight smile when you saw him walking to the exit and said “Don’t forget to pay for those, Sweety”, making him shot a brow at you. You remembered clearly the way he got close to you, declaring with that cocky attitude you hated “Do you know who I am?” as if it would make any difference. You shoved him on the wall, losing your composure, and hissing at him that you didn’t care, and he should pay for it unless he was some kind of hallucination of your head.

   He came back every day after that.

   It has been four years since you two became friends against all the odds; and as a rich kid himself, Chan often paid for your meals, claiming your sorry ass should be thanking him instead of scoffing. You couldn’t help but nudge him with your elbow as soon as you got next to him, making him nudge you back as Paris clasped her hands together, her eyes beaming at your interaction.

   “It’s so beautiful how you guys love each other!” Paris couldn’t see you interacting with another human being without believing you were in love, and although it kinda annoyed you, you tried to overlook it since she didn’t have much more to hold a grudge against. She had been your roommate for the past three years at the dorms, and even though she was a hopeless romantic and annoyed the hell out of you to get together with someone, that was pretty much her only great flaw.

   You remembered perfectly how you thought your life was over once you met her.

   Your first impression of the dorm was awful as you got there and saw the overly pink and cute stuff hanging all around the place as she tried to organize everything in her room. She didn’t have much stuff but all her stuff was vibrant and girly to the point it hurt your eyes.

   You didn’t complain.                                                    

    You put your bag on the floor, looking at her with a grimace as she beamed to meet her new friend. You could say you hated to live with her in the beginning, her carefree self was annoying and her overly friendly antics pissed you off as she always asked you to do things together, watch movies, and eat, and talk and... Well, anything you didn’t want to do with someone you just met. On top of all, she was somewhat lazy and didn’t do much, which ended up with you doing all the chores.

   If you were to be fair, you were the one wearing out yourself, really.

   Everything changed on a particularly exhausting day.

   You had to be a damn good juggler on that week, working yourself until you couldn’t even think about anything clearly. You were like a zombie. A workaholic zombie. You had to go to classes, get your work done, do your assignments, clean up the dorm, study your ass off for the exams, pretend to be a normal human being by socializing with people… Well, basically you were pretty busy on being perfect as you expected you to be. It was obvious that after all your exams were finally done and you got out of work you needed to relax as soon as you got home.

    You fixed yourself something to eat, turned on the TV, crashed on the couch to watch something, and just blacked out right there.

   When you woke up on the next day’s afternoon, you got a cozy feeling above you, some fluffy blanket was thrown around your body, making you warm and peaceful. You shot your body up, sitting on the couch and looking around, alarmed, just to see the TV turned off, the dishes cleaned, the dorm tidy, and your bubbly roommate folding the clothes. You got up from the couch quickly and made a bow, apologizing profusely for being a mess and letting everything out of place on the night before. She scoffed, shrugging it off by waving her hand and said something around “I know you like to do the chores but you wore out yourself this week, you should take a break! You’re not being a burden! Isn’t helping each other out what friends do?” and it made you gasp before smiling.

    You didn’t think of her as a friend back then but it did change that day.

    “It would be even more beautiful if you didn’t try to make us swallow up your need to a nonexistent love between us every time I take you guys out” Chan pointed out, grimacing at her. You couldn’t say Chan and Paris got along even though you tried to make them friendly towards each other but you couldn’t blame Chan for being an ass since you weren’t any better to his friend.

   “So you’re taking us out to lunch? Wonderful!” Hyunjin beamed in sarcasm, knowing too well you would complain. You rolled your eyes and looked at Chan as you guys started to walk, getting on your way to his car so he could take you wherever he was planning to go.

  “It’s called a friendly gathering for a reason, Hyunjin… It means only friends can come” You feigned sympathy, pressing your lips together and looking at him with apologetic eyes. He scoffed at you and nudged Chan on the shoulder, resting his hand there as you walked.

   “I’m his friend too! He’s paying so I can go as a friend unless you want to pay for everyone, then I will have to retreat” He argued, an almost unnoticeable smirk on his lips. You pouted, turning to Chan to complain but he seemed to not pay attention to your childish argument, ignoring you as he looked straight ahead, unbothered.

   “He’s right” He stated before you could whine, showing that he was indeed hearing your conversation. Chan had this habit of pretending not to pay attention to you just to state something that showed he was tuned with everything even though he looked bored, and it always seemed to amaze you. He was a sneak little prick. You whined at him, complaining randomly so he would give up on his idea but he wasn’t buying it, pretty much ignoring you.

  “You’re rich! You don’t even need him to pay for you” You decided to complain to Hyunjin, who just shot you an amused look, scoffing.

   “You work! You don’t need it either” He pointed out, making you sigh. You looked at Paris for support but she was watching the world absent-mindedly, humming something she probably had come up with on the walk, testing over and over again some tune she seemed to like and picking up her phone quickly, recording it and sending it to you so she could save it. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket and sighed.

  What great friends you had.

  “Oh! Are you going to come to Han’s game?” She asked suddenly, looking at you excited “He even said if he couldn’t score a point for us this time he would treat us afterward!” You laughed at her enthusiasm, shaking your head in disbelief.

  “Was he laughing when you took the deal?” You asked and she seemed to think hard about it, her fingers gripping her chin as she frowned, trying to recall her conversation with your mutual friend. As soon as she remembered it, she smiled and nodded, making you snort “That’s because he’s a Líbero, Paris, they can’t score any points… He was hitting on you” You explained, her eyes shining in realization.

   “He pranked me!” She uttered, laughing.

   “If you actually paid attention to his explanations you would have guessed it” You pointed out, making Chan snort “Are you coming?” You asked him but Chan shot you a pointed look.

   “Do I look like the kind of guy who would go to a volleyball match?” He asked mockingly, making you shrug.

  “You don’t look like the kind of guy who spends your time with dumbasses but here we are going to eat with one” You retorted, glancing over your shoulders so Hyunjin knew you were talking about him. You finally made it to the car. Chan clicked his key’s button, unlocking his car from afar before you got there, opening the door, and getting inside with a cool motion that made you laugh. He was so playboyish!

   “I wasn’t even doing anything right now” Hyunjin complained as he got himself on the front seat in the same way Chan did, trying to look cool. You snorted at him, getting in the car and sliding to the side so Paris could get in beside you “Is it just to get my attention?” He teased, looking over his shoulder, getting startled at your face so close to his, your arms were resting on Chan’s sit, your chin resting on your arm as you looked ahead, watching as your friend backed up.

   You didn’t hate Hyunjin or something like this, you both just teased each other every time you could. You weren’t really fond of his antics since he was just a playboy that didn’t care about anything apart from him ─ and you weren’t really the kind to feel comfortable around dickheads─, so your friendship just wasn’t meant to happen. You could tolerate him well enough when he wasn’t pissing you off at classes though. You could say you both were academic rivals, extremely smart students that liked to overcome the other by doing witty remarks and good work…

    It wasn’t about being the best student, you didn’t believe in such a thing, it was about being better than him, and he wanted to be better than you.

    You could remember clearly the first time you met.

    He was a cocky guy back then too.

    He sat right next to you even though there were tons of available seats, his smirk suggesting he wasn’t really the friendly type, so he could only be there flirting. You rolled your eyes. He tried to chat with you, talking about him and how he was taking that psychology elective because the other ones seemed too easy for him. You nodded, not really listening to his monologue, and opened your notebook as soon as the Professor came in, presenting himself and giving you a deep question that made you contemplate in silence before you answered it proudly. He scoffed. He scoffed right on your face as he retorted you, and you retorted him back, and then he retorted you again… Your endless arguing conquered a proud clap from your Professor.

    You, on the other hand, conquered a rival.

   Later that week Chan invited you to see his new place, an apartment he rented with a friend even though both of them could easily live by themselves… You could never understand them. You arrived ranting about your classes, bringing the “smartass” issue as soon as you remember, and complaining about that guy that would seat beside you twice a week.

    You regret till this very day the way you said he was a hot and annoying guy because at this very moment he showed up on his sweatpants, using a towel to dry his hair as some drops fell onto his shirtless chest. He smirked at you, teasing you by saying “Hot, hm? So you were just playing hard to get. I like it” as he leaned on the wall, hanging the towel on his shoulder and making fun of you about it till this very day.

   “Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Paris was waving her hand right in front of your eyes, trying to get your attention. You shot your eyes to her, startled, smiling apologetically “We’re here” She announced, making you realize Chan was parking, a huge and presumably expensive restaurant standing there in all its glory.

   You would need to work at least to your death to be able to pay for breathing the air inside it.

  “Holy shit, are you rich?” You asked in disbelief, shock getting the better of you as you completely forgot who you were talking about. Chan grimaced at you like you were his dumb but lovingly friend, and you shot him a glare as soon as you composed yourself.

   Let Chan spend his money mindlessly and he would bankrupt his family.

                                                              ////

   You weren’t exactly the sport type but being on the grandstand together with a bunch of people you never talked to, all of you gathering by the same will to defeat the enemy… It just made its way to your mind somehow. You cheered loudly, booing at the opponents' team and their fans while clapping hard at your own team, shouting your lungs out every time Han made a good play, which was pretty often if you were fair.

   If anyone asked you when you made it to college if you would be going to games and cheering for your team, you would laugh on their faces… In fact, that was exactly what you did the first time Han asked you if you were going to his game, amused by his innocence. You two met because Paris was majoring in Music and He decided to take some music classes, which got him an invitation to a party Paris decided to throw on a Friday night.

   It was kind of cute how he was so flustered there, taking your offer for a glass of whatever Paris had mixed to serve as a drink with trembling hands. He was one of the first guys you had the pleasure to analyze as an aspiring psychologist, the clear signals of an awkward guy around the girl he had a crush all over his face: Pink cheeks, stuttering, exaggerated gesticulation, high pitched voice, inability to stay still as he swift his weight side to side, nervous eyes looking around the room…

    The poor boy was on edge, his eyes resting on Paris from time to time as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know the right words.

    Although he was a player in the court, he was far from that on real life and you found it cute.

   You remembered how he winced startled as you patted his shoulder, he looked like a little squirrel stocking his cheeks with alcohol just so he could gulp it down and choke, confused at your knowing look. He ended up being Paris’ partner for most of their projects, obviously trying to get some alone time with her, even though she always called you to listen to their compositions, blowing his plans. All that hanging out and his friendly behavior began a loose friendship, where you went to watch his games with Paris and you two went to watch Paris’s performances, your little alliance being settled so you wouldn’t feel excluded.

   That was how thoughtful he was.

   Paris screamed, hyped by your team score, and you followed her, standing up and cupping your mouth to scream his name, his eyes searching for both of you in the crowd, a bright smile when his eyes connected to yours. You waved at his way, getting a wave as an answer before he had to focus again on his match.

   As soon as the game ended, you both waited as the sea of people made their way out of the grandstand, mostly hyped for some afterward party that certainly would be happening somewhere. You and Paris made your way to the court, waiting for Han to come back from the locker room while chatting about the game. It took him some time to take his bath and get ready, and he came out of the locker room along with some friends that patted his back and complimented his plays, waving him goodbye as soon as they saw us waiting, knowing you wouldn’t go to the party.

   “Y/N told me you can’t score a point as a Libero” Was the first thing Paris said, chuckling, making Han cackle up.

   “You should know it by now! You came to literally every game I played for… Two years? It’s insane! What did you think? That I was a terrible player?” Paris grinned sheepishly and this time you cackled up.

   “It seems like your partner doesn’t believe in your abilities” You pointed out, making him snort “Anyway, I heard you would be paying if you didn’t score anything, so it’s on you today, loser” Han grinned, throwing his arms around your shoulders, pulling both of you closer as he guided you.

   “I can offer you the best hot dog in town” He agreed “Maybe even a soda if we all share it” Paris laughed, holding his wrist as she walked along with him, you took the hint to take his arm off your shoulders and let them have their moment, missing the way he pouted when you broke away the contact.

   “I can pay for our drinks” You offered, making Han gasp in mock chock.

   “Rich, aren’t we?” He joked, getting a light push on the shoulder as an answer.

   “I work for a reason, moron” You rolled your eyes “Now let’s split that bill” You smiled as the three of you made your way to your favorite hot-dog stand on campus.    

[terrm9]

38 and 49 ethan and chiara 😊 from the i love u prompts

Dearest anon, thank you for the request and I am so sorry it took me so long. I truly hope you can still find this enjoyable.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, teeny tiny little bit of angst (maybe?), other than that just fluff

This is set in the time jump in Book 2 (after the gala)

Prompts: “I am not leaving you” & “If only you could see yourself the way I see you”

*** *** ***

It was 2:54 AM when the sharp sound of an incoming call interrupted Chiara’s already light sleep. All traces of it, however, disappeared the moment her phone started ringing, because nobody calls at three in the morning to tell you good news.

Cold sweat made her shiver and she felt like her heart skipped several beats when she noticed Ethan’s name on the display. What was happening? He was not working and he knew she wasn’t either. He would never call her knowing that she was sleeping if it wasn’t for something important.

Or serious.

“Ethan?” she picked up, holding her breath and biting her lip nervously. She was a second away from pacing her room.

“Chiara,” her name sounded like the most precious combination of letters that has ever been created in the moment.

There was no sign of panic or alarm in his voice as he breathed her name out, quite the opposite – was it relief? Could it be?

Why would it be?

“Are you okay?” they both asked at the same time.

Chiara decided to be the first to answer, as it became obvious that Ethan called her to make sure she was okay. She was beginning to understand what was going on and her heart dropped at the realization.

“Of course I am okay. I am at home, I was sleeping.”

The air around Ethan felt colder than he remembered from any other January in Boston and he wondered how big a part his feelings, his emotions, his state, played in the illusion?

It was not his most clever idea, to take a walk in the middle of the night. But the scotch was not working and he needed to escape his own mind - hoping to achieve that with the walk.

“I apologize for waking you up,” he said slowly and then, despite hating these moments of weakness, these moments that became more and more present in his life as of late, he dared to ask. “Could I come in?”

There was a long silence on the other side and he cursed under his breath, this was a terrible mistake, and then the door of her building opened and Chiara stood there, in her tank top and underwear, not caring that it was freezing, a sad smile on her lips.

Ethan stepped closer and he despised himself for being so uncertain, for hesitating before he reached out to her and cupped her cheek with his hand.

She took the hand and put a lingering kiss on his palm, the contrast between her soft and warm lips and his freezing skin so sharp he felt like the touch burned him.

It didn’t take him long to realize that he never wished to be burnt until now.

Without any words, Chiara interlaced their fingers together and led him into her apartment and then straight into her room, her expression soft and understanding and Ethan felt like a little boy that found his comfort and he hated that he needed to be comforted.

And he loved it too.

For a moment or two, Chiara felt the urge to ask him What happened? Are you okay? How long have you been freezing out there before calling me?, but she knew better now.

No matter how much Ethan hated to admit it – no, how much he avoided admitting it – under the mask of stoic, stable doctor, there was a man whose life was falling into pieces and he was failing to put them back together.

Chiara’s little encounter with death back in November was the first event that set Ethan off his axis and they both naively believed that it would be the only one, that they would get through it and life would go back to normal.

And then Luise crashed into Ethan’s life again.

And then the gala did not save Edenbrook and it was reaching its end.

Today, Ethan lost a patient. And it was the moment he insisted that Chiara spends her night in her apartment instead of his that she knew. She knew his night would be the one spent agonizing over what was, what is and most importantly, what will be. She knew that he would beat himself up for things he has no power over, but no matter how stubborn she was, Ethan managed to be more.

And so she left with Elijah after her shift and believed she would meet Ethan in the morning.

Just not three in the morning.

There was no point in asking him, because Chiara Ray knew exactly what was going on, just as she knew that Ethan was not okay.

She didn’t offer him a t-shirt as he took his clothes off, even though there were enough of his t-shirts in her room for him to pick up which one he would like to sleep in.

But Ethan hated sleeping in t-shirt almost as much as he hated talking about the emotions overriding him. And so Chiara didn’t offer him any and just quietly laid down next to him, putting her head on his chest.

“I am sorry for interrupting your night again,” Ethan whispered at last, his gaze pointed on the ceiling.

“I am glad you came,” Chiara smiled softly and put another gentle kiss on his chest, feeling his heart beat rapidly under her lips.

“We are going to be alright,” she spoke again after some time. “Not tonight and not tomorrow, but we are going to be alright one day. We are here and we are together and we are okay. I am not going anywhere, Ethan. I am not leaving you.”

His grip on her waist tightened, a silent acknowledgment of her words, a non-verbal thank you. It was all Ethan managed.

He knew her words were supposed to be soothing, that they had their purpose, a delightful lullaby of reassurance that should have brought sleep that was not marked by nightmares.

But just as Chiara knew without asking, Ethan knew exactly as much.

Ethan knew that her words carried more meaning that some sweet nothings whispered in the darkness of her room, Ethan knew that when Chiara says I am not leaving you, she means every single part of it.

And it scared him.

Did she realize how much was she putting into his arms? Did she realize the power she was giving him by promising to stay by his side?

The hospital was closing and what was he supposed to do? He cannot – he must not – jeopardize her career by expecting her to stay by his side, no matter what his next choice will be. She had the potential to blossom if only she could find the hospital that is worth her presence. And he cannot stop that.

Ethan could live with Chiara hating him for breaking her heart if it would mean that her career was as successful as it deserved to be. He cannot live with Chiara hating him for keeping her close and destroying her chances of becoming the diagnostician she aims to be.

What was he supposed to do?

“Stop doing it,” her soft, sleepy voice interrupted his thoughts and for a moment, he was confused.

“I haven’t done anything,” he defended himself, tilting his head slightly to have a better look at Chiara’s face – her eyes are still peacefully closed and hadn’t she spoken, he would think she was already back to sleep.

“You are spiraling. Analyzing your next steps, drowning in the sea of what if’s and what should’s and I know you think you need to break up with me in order to save my career.”

There was a long silence. Ethan wanted to ask how do you know?, but then he remembered it was Chiara he would be asking and so he didn’t.

In the months of knowing Ethan, Chiara was aware of the ways Ethan’s body responded to his anxiety. She could tell exactly how the fingers on his feet moved rapidly all the time and how a soft gasp left his mouth when an especially strong wave of uncertainty hit him.

“Don’t you ever dare to break up with me because you believe it would be better for me. I am capable of making my own decisions and I decided to be with you,” she went on, her voice sharper than she intended to. “We are not going to solve this whole situation overnight, but even in this moment I know that I want to be part of your life and I want you to be part of mine.”

There were so many things Ethan wanted to tell her. He wished to express his gratitude and he wished Chiara could feel how sorry he was for putting her through so much.

But words stuck in his throat and the only sentence that left him was not even on the list of those he wanted to say.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

Chiara let out a soft chuckle, the warm breath tickling Ethan’s ribs and despite everything, his lips twitched on the right side, a small smile forming on them.

“Life is hardly about what we deserve,” she whispered back. “Sometimes, we get more than we deserve and sometimes we get less. It is what it is.”

“I don’t think you don’t deserve me, though,” she added quickly, throwing a glance up only to find Ethan staring at her intently. “If only you could see yourself the way I see you,” she sighed but didn’t say anything else.

She didn’t need to, after all. Chiara was the first woman in Ethan’s life that never hesitated to let him know which parts of him she loved and for which she could tear his head off. He knew that in Chiara’s eyes, he was great. Worth love and worth happiness.

In her eyes, he was deserving.

There was another box of untouched thoughts in Ethan’s head and tonight, after he felt Chiara’s breaths getting steadier, he allowed himself to open the box.

Ethan was sure that there was no man, no woman, no person in this world that deserved Chiara. He was sure that Chiara was far too good for mere humans, with their flaws and their sins and their limits, to claim her as theirs.

He was more than sure that he was not deserving of her presence in his life.

But there she was, dedicated to stay, dedicated to show him the world the way she sees it. Dedicated to show him magic, because if Chiara was something, it was magical. Ethereal.

And in the chaos of his uncertainty, Ethan found out that there was one thought that he became certain of.

A frightening one, indeed. But certain.

He loved the woman.

[saigonharrington]

nervous // g.w

Hi babes!

I’m finally posting the George fic that I was talking about and I am so excited for you to read it!

please, reblog if you like it, it helps me grow

disclaimer: my knowledge of werewolves is based only on a little internet research and the tv series named teen wolf, the episode named Anchors inspired me to write this

pairing: george weasley x werewolf!fem!reader

word count: 6k

Y/N - your name; L/N - last name; Y/F/N - your friend’s name

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, (kind of) panicking

summary: y/n is afraid of who she became, thinking that now she’s unlikable, but her new abilities prove her wrong, making her hear the boy’s talking and... the beating of his heart

“Hey, he’s staring again.” Your friend noticed the boy, who was standing across the hall with his brother and their friends.

Who was she talking about? George Weasley, of course, the person whose heart you could hear from miles away.

You met him a while ago, wandering through the halls at night, trying to sort some things out while he and his brother were bringing their another prank to life. Of all people attending Hogwarts, you bumped into them. 

You never thought that someone, besides Prefects, would be seen in the corridors so you didn’t pay attention, focusing only on your thoughts.  No wonder you got quite overwhelmed when you hit your head with something, and it definitely wasn’t a wall.

“Are you okay?” The redheaded boy asked you, worried about your well-being. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t take my eyes off that Zonko’s new item. Are you sure you are fine? I can walk you to madam Pomfrey.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” You said, looking at the moon. “I’m heading to my dormitory, don’t want to bother you and your brother.” You nodded at him, so he told you his name.

“I’m Fred. The more handsome one. Also, the funnier one, because I’ve just made out an amazing plan. Care to join us? I swear you will not regret it. ” He encouraged you, and you didn’t want to be rude, finally agreeing to go with them. A couple of minutes more outside the dorm can’t hurt you, right?

The thing is, you spent almost the whole night preparing pranks with them and idly talking, joking about Snape and Filch. 

The problem is, you haven't talked with them since that accident. Sometimes you exchanged a few words in classes you had together but nothing more.

So then why did George have a crush on you?

You asked yourself that question many times since you first heard him confessing his feelings to Fred. Every time this boy got closer to you or touched you accidentally, his heart was beating so fast like a drum. Your heart has been just as fast as his, but he couldn’t know that. You didn’t even know if it was because you shared his feelings, or did just knowing what he feels towards you, made you that anxious. 

“I know. I’m still not able to control these new super senses. I saw him a while ago. Not to mention that his heart makes my ears hurt. ” You admitted, holding your head because all these sounds were giving you a headache.

“Well, maybe if you’d finally talk to him, your senses wouldn’t be a big problem. Perhaps if you can’t manage to control them, you should ask someone who might help you. Go to professor Lupin.”

“But he doesn’t know that I’m a werewolf. I’m still not comfortable when someone mentions that. ” You said, scared of what you’d become. You knew that sooner or later you were supposed to reach for help, but you felt insecure and didn’t want to recall that night when you were bitten.

“He’s coming over here.” Your friend interrupted your thought, reminding you of George. 

“No way, we have to run.” You started packing your bag, standing up from sitting on the bench. 

“Too late.” She added, making you turn around.

“Hello girls, how’s your day?” He asked nicely, staring at you constantly. 

“Bad.” You whispered.

“Getting better.” Your friend interrupted you, because she knew how much you wanted to walk away, and she couldn’t let you, knowing that you have to confront him anyway. 

“Great, I wanted to ask you a question.” He pointed at you, smiling widely. “Would you go on a date with me?” He scratched his back, getting stressed. You heard his heart pounding, which made you even angrier. The sound was so loud that you weren’t able to hear anything other than that, feeling like you could pass out at any moment. 

“She would love to.” Your friend took the lead, which made the boy wonder why you weren’t responding. “She’s just as stressed as you are. Sorry for speaking in her name, but she talked about you for so long. I hope you understand.”

“Oh, no worries. Meet me after the lessons on Friday. I’ll be waiting near to the great hall. ” He explained, addressing it to you, adding a short “see you later” after his brother called after him.

“You should thank me.” Your friend addressed you, asking you to sit down.

“Gosh, his heart was beating so fast. I couldn’t focus.” You told her, relaxing a bit. “And no, I will not thank you. Can’t you understand why I’m avoiding him? I thought I told you.”

“No, I can. I just think that you’re wrong. ” She told you, winking at you.

“Think about it. If he’ll find out who I am, he won’t talk to me again. I’d rather stare at him, being miles away and aware that he likes me too than admitting who I am and getting rejected, him not being able to look at me again.” You admitted, hearing your voice cracking slowly. 

“You idiot. You really think that werewolves are some type of creature that cannot function normally? You’re here for centuries, managing everything somehow, I bet that there were werewolves married to Muggles, to wizards, and many more. Don’t think of yourself as a beast, some kind of unlovable creature. That’s not what you are. You’re perfectly normal. By the way, bold of you to assume that he’s the first one to judge and won’t accept you.” She gave you a speech, trying to cheer you up.

“That’s exactly what I think. Can you blame me? I’m still not used to this, I never really talked with any other werewolves.”

“Then stop! See, you’re also prejudging him. There’s only one way to find out what he’s thinking about you. You’ll tell him the truth. But for now, we have to find Lupin.”

—

You were not ready yesterday, so after your friend spotted Lupin, you decided to hide. You wanted to be prepared for every topic that he will discuss with you, deciding that you’ll ask him to stay for a little talk when the DADA lesson finishes. 

“Can I speak with you for a moment, professor?” You asked, trying to sound quiet. 

“Yes, you may. What’s the problem, miss L/N?” 

“If you’re going to ask questions, then I might stay here for a little longer than ‘ a moment ’.” You joked, secretly being scared of admitting the truth.

“Anyway. As you may know, I am a werewolf. Before you ask, I prefer not to tell you how it happened. I’m still learning, and you’re the only one that came to mind. I thought that you might help me.”

“You should’ve come earlier. Weren’t you curious earlier about your abilities and how to control them?”

“I was. But I was also too afraid to say something. Werewolves aren’t considered as the nicest creatures, I wanted to avoid gossip. I still want to. ” You started a monologue, watching closely if Lupin is paying attention to you. “The main reason for me coming to have a little chat with you is not only to ask about my abilities. I’m invested in hearing. Because I cannot understand why some sounds are clearer and come to my mind often? What makes them so?”

“Do you have something specific in your mind?” He asked, being eager to help you.

“Someone’s heart beating. I mean, I hear a lot of sounds, but this one is haunting me, even if that person is completely in a different place. Am I losing my mind? Or did this happen to you as well?”

“This person is your anchor, then. The one who can calm you down, who can help you control all of your new skills. But it might change through the years, you don’t have one anchor for eternity. Everything is based on your feelings. ” Remus explained calmly.

“Who was your anchor? You don’t have to tell me if you’re not feeling comfortable with it, after all, I’m just another Hogwarts student. ” You asked out of curiosity, wishing that he will open up to you.

“It used to be someone who was my friend. I don’t think I have an anchor anymore. ” He answered, being rather peaceful and not bothered by it, however, you wanted to comfort him, asking for permission to hug him.

“You’ll find another anchor. You said that we can have it more than once, right? I bet that somewhere there is someone special, whose ability is to calm you down. ” You smiled shyly.

“Um, eh, we’re not here to be upset. Let’s focus on your issue.” He said, wanting to change the topic. “What you need to control your abilities is physical contact with that special someone. I can’t assure you that it will work after the first attempt, but it certainly might help.

 “But that takes time, I think I was able to control most parts of it after months. Still, some things are not under my control. Anyway, don’t worry about that, everything has its flaws. If you’ll excuse me, I have an important meeting soon, I don't want to be late. If you want, we can meet again after one of my lessons.” Lupin bid you goodbye, making you leave his classroom.

As you were left alone, you started thinking about the conversation that happened seconds ago. It did not make sense to you.

How could George be your anchor? 

Sure, you had a crush on him for a while, but nothing ever happened between you two. That one night, which you spent preparing pranks with twins was fun, nothing else. You decided to not make any more friends, because you remembered how Y/F/N reacted when you said that you’re a werewolf. So you drifted away not only for your own good, but also for his. 

Why him? Why isn’t it your friend, or even someone from your family who is  your anchor? And how are you going to explain it to him? “Hey, I’m a werewolf, and you’re the only one that keeps me sane? You have to stay with me forever, otherwise I might go crazy?” 

No way. You couldn’t  see it.

At the same time, George was calmly waiting for you next to the Defence Against the Dark Arts  classroom. He noticed that you stayed for a little talk with Remus, but he also was eager to talk to you. 

Your date was supposed to happen tomorrow, and he wanted to make sure that you’re comfortable with him, and that you have something to talk about. He was afraid that maybe somehow tomorrow you guys will be stressed, so chatting the day before, no strings attached and just getting to know each other might lighten the mood. 

“Hey.” He started the conversation without thinking about it. ‘Hey’? Couldn’t you think about anything better? Something more creative? Now she will think that you were stalking her, you dumbass, he thought, standing in front of you.

Never was he that close to you, or maybe just didn’t pay attention when you were around, but now he noticed the height difference between the both of you. He found it really hard not to kneel down, so he could see your eyes gleaming. Although he considered it cute and funny, he decided not to mock it. Well, not right now, since he had other reasons to talk to you and was so fixated about it.

“Hello George, what could have  brought you here?” You asked, not bothering to look at him, because you would have to keep your head up.

“We just had the same lesson.  I sit in front of you. ” He explained, thinking that you didn’t notice that detail. If the tall, ginger boy can be considered as a detail.

“Oh, I know. But the lesson ended 20 minutes ago. ” You said, wondering if he will say what he has in mind or will just play pretend.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you. Nothing deep, only to diffuse the tension before our meeting tomorrow. ” He scratched his head, walking slowly by your side.

“Meeting you say, and what’s that?” You teased him a little, finding it funny and adorable that he was afraid to use the word ‘date’.

“You know, when a group of people, two and above, meets somewhere. God, I was scared that I’m going to be the dumb one. Now I can relax. But I have to admit, I expected more from you. ” He joked, coping with his fear.

“Okay, so what’s the pre-meeting topic that made you come to me?”

“Actually…” He began, but you interfered.

“Shit. My friend is there.” You pointed at the end of the corridor, where she was talking with a Ravenclaw from your year. “We have to hide, I’ll explain.” You pushed him to the next door that appeared in front of you, finding yourself in Filch’s office. Great.

“Can you explain now? I thought that you like her. ” He asked out of curiosity.

“I do, but I don’t want her to interject in our conversation. Shh, I think someone’s coming. We should hide. ” You advised, being pretty sure that it’s Filch. Who else would  come to his office? You made George hide behind the huge bookshelf, noticing how little space there was.

“You know, we could also say a spell to make us invisible.” He laughed at you, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Too late. Shut your mouth. ” You both tried to stay silent, hearing the sound of someone opening the door. George was almost sitting, because if he would stand normally, his head could be seen above the bookshelf. 

His eyes were focused on you and your face in general, which made you hold your laughs way harder than you thought it would. If either  of you made a sound, you’d end up in detention, and Filch would make sure that you get the worst punishment. 

Fortunately, he only came to get one thing from his desk, so as soon as you heard the door shut, George suddenly moved, hitting his head on the shelf. 

“Shh.” You said, listening closely to the steps that were getting closer.

“Ah, Mr. Norris, I forgot about you! But you didn’t have to hit the door so hard. I hope you forgive me. ” He said to the cat that stayed in his office, but this time he took it with him.

While they were going out of the office, you had to silence the boy, who was struggling because of pain. It was not your intention to show your werewolf abilities, however, he looked as it really hurt him, wanting to scream. 

“Show me the back of your head.” You demanded, when the two of you went out of the hideaway. You slowly took his head with one hand, the other one intertwining with his fingers. He had no idea what you were doing. It was clever of you to take his hand, making it look like you were comforting him, while you took some of his pain away. Fortunately, you were wearing your long robes, so your veins were not visible. Otherwise, the boy would’ve seen how you were taking the sore, making the veins look blackish.

If it weren’t for your location and the cause of his headache, both of you would be on the way to the hospital wing. But how could you explain that George hit the bookshelf in Filch’s office? Well, you couldn’t. Good for you that the boy did not question your methods, he probably didn’t even notice the thing that you had done. 

“That was weird. But also hilarious.” George admitted, laughing way too loud, when you carefully opened the door to check what’s going on outside the office. After you made sure that no one was staring, you took his hand again, making him go after you.

While wandering through corridors, you noticed it is almost empty.

“Why is no one here?” You asked, not expecting the ginger boy to answer.

“You know, I think everyone is having classes. We’re going to be late.” 

“Oh no, we’re not going at all.” You replied quickly. “Not in the mood to get all the attention today, apparently the world is against me. We gotta be smarter, let’s play truant.” You tried to encourage George, but he already seemed to be in.

“That sounds great! Now I really do feel like we’re soulmates.”

“You doubted it? Wait, you never even mentioned that to me. ” You craved for an explanation, while George wasn’t so fond of telling you more.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a silly word. I intended to ask you something. Why didn’t you say anything when I asked for a date? Is it because you didn’t want to, or find me too intimidating?”

“Do you want the answer that will make you look bad, or do I have to take all the blame?”

“Depends which is the correct one.” He replied teasingly.

“I mean, I did think it was a little weird that you asked me, because after the pranks that night we talked only occasionally… how could I possibly be your soulmate? How could you grow to like me when you don’t know me at all? ” Yeah, you might regret that later, but you had to be honest.

“Merlin, I’m going to sound like a weirdo, but I do know you. At least I think so. You showed the real yourself that night, being careless and funny, besides in most of my classes I’m focusing on you, not the topic. I’m definitely sounding like a psycho, but you always sit in front of me or behind me, joking with your friend and I cannot help but hear more than a little and laugh quietly. I’ve liked you since that damn night and got to know you, in an unusual way, but still felt like we’re similar. That’s why I had to shoot my shot. Please don’t leave. ” He said, grabbing my hand, afraid of the vision that I might freak out.

“Can you shut up?” You replied in a harsh way, later realizing what you had done. “Shit, I didn’t mean… I just… you can speak. I’m just… Can you calm down? It sounds like your heart is going to run away from your body.” 

“Am I sweating or what?” He asked, curious how did you notice that his heart was fluttering.

“Oh no I actually… I can hear your heart beating. Very, very fast. And that you’re swallowing now the gulp of saliva, because you’re scared. I even hear professor Flitwick explaining the cheering charm to the 3rd years. And that Hagrid is coming, I think he’ll appear in this corridor in two minutes.”

“Your eyes have just changed from their natural  color. What is going on? Is something wrong? I am worried, I want to help you darling. ” He tried to comfort you, so you didn’t even notice the nickname. “Are you an Animagus? Metamorphmagus?”

“I’m a werewolf. I’m a werewolf, George. I’m so sorry, I know, I should’ve told you earlier. ” You admitted the truth, now being the one who’s afraid.

“No way! That’s so cool! I’m glad that I know! How many people know? Is this why you talked with Lupin? Can you show me your claws? And your transformation? ” The ginger got way too excited, so your job was to tone him down. 

“Shh, remember that we’re in corridors, when  we should be in classes. No one can know that we’re here. I’m so sorry for saying this, but I can’t show you. Not only is it irresponsible, but.. I can’t control anything since I was bitten. It might be because I’m that creature for the short term. I haven’t  learned to control it yet, no one was kind enough to show me. Oh wait, the only werewolf that I know and trust is Remus and I told him the news just today.”

“But you told me that you hear my heart beating...  It’s one of your abilities, right? ” He asked curiously.

“Yeah, it is. See, I either don’t know how to do things or they’re out of my control. I can smell like everything in this corridor right now, and trust me, when it’s mixed, it’s awful. I told you, I hear not only you, but even what’s happening in the charms classroom that is in front of us,” you took a deep breath, trying to gather your wits,

 “I also see the flying lessons from that window and I can recall every face of the students that are now attending that lesson. The problem is, that I don’t want to. This information is totally not needed by me, but I can’t control it.”

 “I can’t decide yet what I want to smell or hear… it’s really hard. That’s why I couldn’t answer you when you asked me on a date. I heard your heart, and it caused my headache, that’s why my friend took the lead and talked with you that day.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it! Now that I know what was happening, I can relax. Should I say sorry for the sound of my heart? I didn’t want to…”

“It’s okay.” You interjected, comforting him, while it’s you who needed the comfort. “It’s not that bad, since you consider us soulmates, me, remembering how your heart beat sounds, it’s quite romantic.” You smiled shyly, avoiding eye contact.

“Can I?” George started, but took a break, wishing that you know what he has in his mind. You didn’t, so you stared at him with interest. “Can I listen to your heart? I wish I could remember yours too.”

You nodded at him, but the boy was too awkward to start this. You took his hand, leading it slowly to your chest, getting out of your comfort zone. 

“You know, maybe you should rest your head on me. It won’t look as weird as you're almost touching my breasts. ” You started laughing, wondering if you’re  taking this too far.

“Alright then.” He got a little more confident, doing as you told him so. “And I was hoping that we were going to have sex.”

“And you’re my soulmate?? Man, I would never do it in public. In front of the charms' classroom? What if Flitwick or students… I can’t even say it. You’re something else, Weasley.” You patted him on his head, which was still resting on your arm.

“I was going to tell you something really important. But since you got too cocky, you’re gonna have to wait ‘til  our date. ” You started, feeling ready to explain to him about  the anchor. You didn’t change your mind, because you will tell him anyway. Since the two of you got way too comfortable around each other, you decided to tease him a little. 

“Oh please, don’t leave me hanging on. I can give you… something. ” He tried to convince you, taking some sweets from his pocket.

“No way, I know what you’re giving me. It’s Zonko’s hiccough sweet. Won’t happen. ” You replied, declining his offer. The bell ringing made you realize that the lesson has ended and the two of you should hide or at least make an excuse why didn’t you show up to your classes. Not only for the teachers, but for the friends' curiosity. What were you going to say? It seemed easier to just disappear than explain everything. 

“I’m sorry, but Fred is watching us and I think we have something to talk about.” George got up, waving to his brother. “See you tomorrow then? Please, don’t be late” He added, lending you a hand in case you wanted to stand up, but you kindly declined it, deciding to sit for a little longer.

“Where were you? I was freaking out until I noticed that George was also absent. Good for you that it’s the transfiguration you had missed, not potions. Snape would kill you, or make you clean his class. Now, tell me what happened. In detail, please. ” She begged you, making you sigh at that statement, knowing that you two will probably miss another lesson, talking about your new friend, or, more like, soulmate?

—

The date was about to begin in 30 minutes, you were sitting calmly in your dorm, listening to your friend’s rambling.

“What do you mean by saying that you have ‘a lot of time’? Is thirty minutes a lot? You aren’t ready at all! At least change your shirt.”

“Well, I wanted to dress up. Then I started thinking if I should wear something casual, since it’s just Friday night, and we’re staying in school, or should I wear something elegant, to make this date more serious. Next I had a little panic attack for the same reason. Finally, I decided that I’m not gonna dress up. Too much pressure.”

“So you’re going in the same clothes that you were wearing for the whole day?” She asked you, wishing you’ll decide to change.

“Yeah, I don’t want to make it official. We’ll see what is going to happen.”

“At least brush your teeth for Merlin’s sake! I bet this boy is ready for something more than listening to your heart. ” She joked, making you terrified.

“Damn, what if he really does? What If I won’t be able to control myself and change into a werewolf? That would be so humiliating.”

“No! I’m sorry, don’t panic. I think he’ll be excited to see you in that way. You mentioned that he was very cool about that. ” She tried to calm you.

“No, you don’t understand. I can’t control myself. What If I harm him? I don’t want to... If something like that happens, then for sure he won’t keep in touch with me. ” You said, pacing  around the dorm to not freak out.

“Oh trust me, this boy is weird. And he likes taking risks. I bet that he will laugh about it and get excited. ” She summed it up, wishing that it might cheer me up.

Because of her, you  finally decided to get up and change clothes. You still wanted to be comfortable, hoping that casual clothes would fit in that situation, whatever it may be that George has planned. 

After saying goodbye to your  friend, you found yourself in the corridors, walking slowly, focusing on breathing slowly. There’s no need to worry, right?

A couple of minutes later you noticed George, standing in front of the Great Hall, just as he said to you  earlier, leaning against the wall. He was looking down at the floor, bouncing his head, probably to the song that he couldn’t get rid of. You did not want to interrupt, enjoying the view from afar, but you knew you had no choice.

“Stressed?” You asked him, watching as his eyes slowly looked  upon you. “Not any longer. You came. ” He smirked, asking for permission to take my hand. “Why wouldn’t I? Yesterday was fun. ” You admitted, being curious where the two of you are heading to. 

Before you realized you were outside of  Hogwarts, George led you to the location where everything was prepared. You couldn’t help but wonder what he has in his mind. Is he worried that you may not like that? Is he excited to show you? Is it still a date or just a friendly meeting? 

Seconds later the view was starting to get familiar  the Black Lake was for sure mesmerizing, but what amazed you more was a huge, colorful blanket  with so much food on it. 

“Did you make it?” You asked, noticing that a flower crown was also laying on the blanket. “Which charm did you use?” The boy flushed at this question, feeling embarrassed.

“Oh, I didn’t use any charm. I got anxious after everything was prepared, so I had to get my hands busy. We were making flower crowns when Ginny was little, so I was worried that I might not do it properly, because it was long ago, but I’m actually proud of that one. ” George explained everything to you, starting to gain his confidence back, seeing that you liked what he had done. He helped you put it on your head, and then you sat down, looking at swans swimming in the lake.

“Do you think that we will eat everything? It looks like a feast for the whole school, or at least for one of the houses. ” The food in front of you was disappearing very, very slowly. Although George was eating all the time, the blanket was still full of all kinds of food. At first, you weren’t eager to try this food, knowing that George might have done something with it, but when he reached for the snacks, you followed his actions. 

Talking with him was really pleasant, you felt weirdly comfortable around him, but still the anchor thing was haunting you. Sometimes you couldn’t focus, thinking how are you going to explain it to him. It wasn’t that hard to make words come out of your mouth. What worried you was the commitment. Do you have to be his girlfriend immediately after that confession? Does that strengthen the bond between you two? Or will it mean nothing to him?

You could admit that you liked him. A lot. But those words sounded like you expected him to be more than your friend, and you did not want to rush things. Maybe you’ll consider telling it to him after the date? Depends on if it’s going to be good or end awkwardly? 

You decided to brush it off, asking out of nowhere.

“George, what’s like to prank people? Do you feel excited or embarrassed while making them?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never pranked someone.” He said seriously, but seeing your face made him realize that you weren’t joking as well.

 “No way. We have to prank someone together. Get up. Plans are changed.” He ordered, making sure that you do what he told you to, and then throwing the spell that made the blanket disappear.

“Did someone get under your skin lately?” Weasley said, probably having the plan already made in his head.

“Filch is yelling at me every day. Apparently Mr. Norris is not fond of my Kneazle.”

“And you’re letting him treat you like that? We gotta do something.” 

Going back to Hogwarts was quick and exciting. You never pranked anyone but you heard a lot of stories about the twins doing it, and having a chance to make it with one of them next to you, made you hope that it’s going to be fun. George decided that you’re gonna make a potion that will make Filch speak nonsense, it is Babbling Beverage. 

To do this, you had to sneak into the potions classroom, which wasn’t the easiest task, but definitely the interesting one. 

Joking with Weasley was really easy, this boy was a comedian. Spending time with him opened your eyes, that not everything has to be taken seriously in life. He could make fun of anything, yet you felt comfortable with him, because he knew when he should stop. 

Collecting all the things needed to brew this potion  created a silence between you two,  because you focused on the responsibility to make it perfect. Considering the fact that neither of you were good in potions, doing all of this was a challenge. But you knew it was worth it. For all the things Filch said to you, offending you every day, you waited for the sweet, sweet revenge. 

Finally, feeling ready, you broke the silence. 

“George, I have to say something. Please don’t make fun of me.”

 “No worries darling. I literally came to you and asked you out even though we didn’t talk much. If you didn’t make fun of me, then I won’t do it to you.” He admitted, taking the ladle out of your hands.

“How much do you know about werewolves?” You started slowly, not wanting to get to the point so quickly.

“Not much. Just that you and Remus are the ones. And that something happens when there’s a full moon. Do you want to say that I should learn more? Because I could do that for you. ” He replied, like it wasn’t a big thing, but it made you smile wide.

“Oh, you don’t have to.” You said, not wanting to put the pressure on him. “You know, there’s a thing called  an Anchor.” You started, taking a deep breath to think what you should say.

“And what’s that?” He asked out of curiosity, wishing that you could explain everything now, because he hated living with the unawareness. “You can trust me.” He added, taking your palm in his and rubbing it slowly with his thumb.

“I don’t know how to say this. I’m nervous. It... it’s a thing, or a person... actually, it is a person, who can calm the werewolf. They don’t have to be next to the creature, just the thought of them makes the werewolf control everything, making them able to not transform into the beast... you know. ” You started messing up the words, feeling incredibly stressed, and the fact that George was staring deep in your eyes, didn’t help you at all.

“Sorry to bother you, but we have to wait one hour for this ingredient to get warmer. We can sit in the storeroom then.”   He took off his jacket, putting it on the floor to make the place a bit more cozy.

You sat next to him, staying silent, knowing that when he interrupted you, it could mean that he’s not interested in the werewolf things. “What you said about the anchor... I think it’s pretty romantic. But why did you mention it to me?” 

“Don’t make me say it Weasley. I really don’t want to. I don’t even think I can. ” You tried to make it obvious that it’s him, but he clearly wanted you to admit it out loud.

“No way, is it Snape? That’s why we’re sitting here? Or is it Filch? And you want to show him the affection through the pranks? You're a weirdo, Y/N.” He laughed.

 “And you clearly don’t know what I have in mind.” You said, getting the confidence you gained lately.

“Do you mean you’re going to change tonight? Should I run? Or try to keep you calm? ” He was asking.

“If someone’s going to be that dumb, I might harm him. Just in case. ” You tried to tease him back, not wanting to say those words.

“Can I kiss you? These threats sound so hot when it comes out of your mouth. ” He asked, so you nodded quietly, watching as he was leaning closer. “Just don’t bite me, or do it. I would be the best werewolf, and the most handsome one. ” He whispered between the kisses.

“Your heart is so freaking loud. Maybe we should stop, we don’t want you to die or have a heart attack. ” You replied, showing that you care.

“We don’t? I didn’t know that. Also, I thought that you can’t hear it anymore. Since I am your anchor, and all you do right now is think of me...” he said confidently, admitting the things you were scared to say.

“Glad you finally understood. But it doesn’t work like that...” You were eager to explain everything once more, yet George had the courage to interrupt you again.

“Shh, we will have the time for talking. I’m now stuck with you forever, to be your Prince Charming and hero when you won’t be able to control yourself. But you are able now, and the night is long…”

“Don’t be so sure.” You interjected, moving closer and deciding to sit on him.

As George said, the night was long. The two of you forgot about the potion you were making, focusing on something else.

 The worst thing was how easy the two of you fell asleep.

 Snape seeing you that morning, sleeping, covered with your robes, was quite surprised. And furious. He yelled at you, making you wake up, not knowing where you are and what you were doing last night.

 It was obvious that he’s going to serve detention for you.

 But what could possibly go wrong, now that you have your anchor beside you?

tagging some people: @weasleysandwheezes @nerdyblogger06 @georgeweasley-whore @georgeweasleysbabe @asimpfortheweasleys

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[animeyanderelover]

Ok I'm starting to notice Leorio gets little to no love so I just had to request a one-shot for him plus honestly I think he'd be one of the least stressful Yandere's to have.I'd love to see your interpretation with prompt 84“I’m not the most violent person, but I’m willing to change that if it means having you.”

Leorio is really a very easy one to deal with. And I totally agree, he doesn’t get enough love😤.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, overprotectiveness, violence

Prompt 84: “I’m not the most violent person, but I’m willing to change that if it means having you.”

Leorio. A name that you had always connected love and safety with. He was your boyfriend, your spoiling and loving partner. He had of course his moments where he was a bit harder to endure. When he became a bit more pervy for example. Or when he suddenly became a bit hotheaded. Leorio was a bit of a bomb when it came to other people being near you. Damn, this man could curse and yell if he wanted too and you always needed to drag him by his ear back to calm him down. But everyone had their flaws, right? And overall he was just very sweet for you. Often buying you flowers or chocolate to remind you that you were loved. Another thing that had made you fallen in love with him was his dream, his passion to become a doctor and save the life of people who hadn’t enough money to pay for proper treatment. It was in your opinion a great thing to work for. And hard working Leorio did, spending a good amount of time with studying and memorizing stuff for upcoming exams. And you tried to support him as good as possible, often bringing him snacks or helping him sorting the notes he took. You needed to repay his love somehow. You felt like you owed him that. Leorio often told you that you had already did enough by accepting him and that he owed you everything, but you didn’t let this answer count. It was your job to watch a bit out for him. Especially if he had one of his infamous outbursts. You needed to make sure that he didn’t do something stupid.

But you had never asked yourself what would actually happen if he should really lose his temper. And you had never wanted to think about it. Leorio was a hothead, but not necessarily a really violent one. That was at least what you had always thought. But everyone had their flaws. You, your parents, friends, people in the city, everyone. Including him. Some were small flaws, easily to overlook. But what happens if you discover a flaw, so huge that it can change your view on the person? And what if the person is someone you love with all your heart? What then? Do you start avoiding them? Or do you try to work it out because you love the person very much? What was the right choice in such a situation? Was there even a right or wrong in such a scenario? You had never thought about what would you do, you had never expected to ever be in such a situation. But even if you would have given it much thought before, would you be still be determined in your opinion you would have thought to be the right one. Or would your mind have started to waver in view of this situation? In the end it wouldn’t have stopped you from being torn apart between the screaming feeling of betrayal and disappointment and the whispering thoughts of forgiving and giving him a chance again. These thoughts were the bullets and yet the cure to your aching heart. And all because of him.

“I’m so sorry (y/n)! I’m so sorry that you had to witness this! I should have been more careful with this!”, Leorio apologized over and over again, walking panicked around in circles and pulling frustrated on his hair. Dear god, he was such an idiot!! He should have planned this more through instead of walking blindly into this situation! But he had anger and impatience letting cloud his judgement and had entered the fight blindly. Stupid, stupid, stupid!! And now you had seen everything. Leorio himself had somewhat sobered up when suddenly hearing his name being softly called, your beautiful voice trembling with fear. And he had felt like dying out of shame then and there. How could he have been so cruel to let you see this, witnessing how he beat up some guy you had never seen before. He had been so brutal with it, but had sobered up the moment he had layer eyes on you, seeing your wide eyes and quivering lip, taking cautious steps back. What had he been supposed to say in that moment? Nothing could have helped you in that moment, not even the fact that he had received informations from Killua that this man had been known in criminal places for capturing and selling people, focusing on pretty women and handsome men to have a better chance selling them. And he had recently taken an eye on you, wanting to grab you and a few other targets he had found in this city. And Leorio would have never let this happen. There could have been other options, but this guy had just happen to run into the already seething him on the way back. And Leorio had lost his temper in that moment.

You stared with huge eyes at the man in front of you, not really realizing him. He looked familiar yet also so unknown to you. Was that really your Leorio? Was this the same man you had often found sleeping with his face on one of his books, drooling all over it in the process? Was this the same man who had so often gifted you flowers and chocolates? Was this the same Leorio you knew? Or was he someone else? You didn’t know anymore what to think. Who was that guy in front of you? Listening to him explaining why he had done what he had done hadn’t really helped you either. It had just been excuses. Excuses with which he had tried to talk himself out of the situation, trying to prevent you from feeling scared of him. If that had been the goal you felt bad to tell him that he had failed. You were afraid, but not nearly as much as you were disappointed. You had thought that you had known him better. Wait. Were you disappointed in yourself? It looked like it. That didn’t seem right. You should feel anything, but self-blame in this situation. But you couldn’t help it. You had thought that you had known him better than this. But in reality you hadn’t known anything about him. He had fooled you with his sweet acts. And you moron had fallen for it. Love really made someone blind.

“Goddamn it! (y/n)! Please say something! Curse at me! Scream at me! Give me a punch if it helps you! But don’t just sit there and give me this look!” You couldn’t. You didn’t have the energy to do it. But most of all you didn’t have the heart. Not the heart to hurt him more than he already was. How could you if he was looking at you with such a heartbreaking look in his eyes at you? How were you supposed to hate someone who meant so much to you? You just couldn’t. But you also couldn’t bring yourself to just forgive him. To be honest, you didn’t know how to feel or what to do. That was why you chose to stay passive for now. With time an answer would eventually come to you. That’s what you hoped at least. Time would show if you would have to leave him or be able to stay with him. But for now you needed to ask him something. Something that might have an influence on your decision and might speed or slow the process down, depending on what he would answer you. And you were afraid of that. Afraid of hearing the wrong answer. Afraid of needing to make a decision that would hurt your heart and would break your already damaged image of him. But you knew that sometimes people needed to make a decision that would break their heart, but heal their soul. Love had always been a double-edged sword and it would always be. The more you loved the more it would hurt. But sometimes such pain was needed in order to make you wiser and see the world more clear. Some lessons were learned best through pain.

“Leorio?” Your voice sounded soft and quiet and if it wouldn’t have been for the already tormenting silence Leorio wouldn’t have been able to hear you. “Would you do something like this again? I understand that in some situations violence can’t be avoided. It’ll never be. But you just lost it when seeing that guy on the streets and dragged him in an alley to beat him up. Do you think that you would do something like this again? I mean getting so violent and beating someone up whilst being fully aware that they’re other ways to do it. You knew what you were doing was wrong...Right?” Leorio clearly heard the slight tremble in your voice when you said the last word. Actually he hadn’t thought about the consequences. The only thing he had wanted to do was getting that bastard to stay away from you. And when that man had started to call you nasty names and what a good plaything you would be for others he had completely lost it. Deep down he had known that there were other ways to solve this. But he hadn’t been able to hold back in that moment. How could he if he had the object of anger and problems right in front of him? And as soon as he had started he hadn’t even thought about stopping. Something...Something about smashing that guy over and over again had given him a satisfying feeling which had at first scared him a bit. He shouldn’t feel such things whilst beating someone up. But on the other hand he knew that this guy would only learn his lesson through this. Leorio knew people like him, knew their way of thinking. They would instantly run away and avoid someone when knowing that they didn’t have the upper hand. People like him were cowards who only pretended to be strong, but show them that you’re stronger and they would beg for mercy on their knees.

Leorio had a conflicted look on his face, gazing over your slightly shaking form. He knew that he wanted to protect you. He had to! As long as you reminded unharmed he was ready to go far. He couldn’t let someone take you away from him. Not if he had the power to stop whatever harm might come your way from touching you. And...And if that meant having to be a bit more vicious in certain situations then so be it. He knew that this wouldn’t make you happy. You were so precious and also so nonviolent. It was no wonder that you couldn’t handle this well. But that’s why he had to be there for you. He had promised you the day you had accepted his confession that he would always protect you and be there for you. And there was no chance that he would ever break that promise to you. He let out a exhausted sigh, giving you a almost helpless look. And from the way a shadow crossed your eyes he knew that you knew what his decision was. “I’m not the most violent person, but I’m willing to change that if it means having you.” You blinked slowly, turning your gaze to your toes. “I see...” Love hurt a lot you noticed. It was funny how love could hurt so much and yet so many people searched for it. And it was also always fascinating how less people really knew about others as they claimed to know. Every person had their flaw. But would you be able to overlook this one?

[volleyball-dontknowher]

Crushing Akaashi x reader

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: fluff

a/N I think I wrote Akaashi smiling more than he really does but I think that’s okay because I feel like he would smile around his crush because he’s not great with words but is going to try and just aah 

Walking into a training camp was always full of surprises, sometimes camp went without any flaws and the days just passed smoothly, sometimes Kenma set a ball to hit Lev in the face and nothing but chaos ensued for the rest of the camp. As a manager, you are in charge of keeping them in check as well as writing down notes about Nekoma as well as the other team. Today marked the beginning of the camp, and you had to admit that you were a little bit too excited to see Fukurodani’s setter, Akaashi. He was absolutely adorable in every single way and you couldn’t make yourself write bad notes about him to share with the team, everything he did was so infuriating because you couldn’t get him out of your head and when Nekoma was against them your brain turned to mush. You would never in a million years admit that Akaashi was constantly in your head, and you may or may not have stalked his Instagram once or twice.

 You were hoping that today you were able to ignore your crush and focus on the games because nationals were only a couple of weeks away, but the moment Fukurodani came through the door you couldn’t help but feel the little blush creeping onto your face, he was just too damn cute. The first matches of the day were against Karasuno as well as Shinzen, with Nekoma taking straight sets in each. The games boosted the team's morale and now it was time to face one of their toughest opponents, Fukurodani. The boys went into the game pumped and were excited to play their friends/enemies with Kuroo giving an amazing pep talk before the match started. The captains shook hands and the game was off. You kept looking up to watch, before looking right back down to take notes. Constantly distracting was the quick wit of Akaashi and the powerful bonds he held with his teammates, that Kenma flat out refused to do. Kenma was an “I like Kuroo '' player while Akaashi played to his whole team and did what was best every time. You couldn’t help but admire how he was so amazing. The game came and went like that, with Nekoma barely pulling out the win. The boys all congratulated one another before the match had ended for the day. You started packing up your stuff to leave the gym, but couldn’t help but turn back and watch as the boys switched setters, with Akaashi and Kuroo playing against Kenma and Bokuto. Akaashi and Kuroo worked perfectly together causing the other two to struggle to pick up the ball, but when it came time for Kurooo to set for Bokuto everything was wrong. Bokuto leaped for the ball and liked to be completely on top of it, while Kuroo liked to get behind the ball to hit it with more strength, it was a small difference but it ended up being huge. The ball came flying across the court, past Kuroo and Akaashi, straight to your face. Before you could even process what had just happened the ball had completely knocked you to the ground and the four boys ran over to you completely in shock. You heard sniffles as you sat up and opened your eyes to see Bokuto tearing up as he apologized profusely to you. 

“Bo, she’ll be okay,” Akaashi turns to him`, trying to stop his tears briefly before smiling gently at you, “are you alright?” 

You nod and as you try and get up. “Whoa whoa whoa what do you think you’re doing?” Kuroo stops you from getting up by placing a hand on your shoulder as you sit back down. 

You shrug and look away from them uncomfortable with all of the attention you were receiving. “Here I can take you to the trainer,” Akaashi offers, “I think I’m the only one who knows where she is,” he adds nervously. The others all agree and before you know it Akaashi grabs your hand and helps pull you up as you walk side by side out the door. Little do you know that when you left the gym the other three high fived because this is exactly what they wanted to happen, but they couldn’t let Akaashi feel like he was partially responsible for hitting you. Kenma took this as his chance to leave before Kuroo and Bokuto went and found Tsuksihima and Hinata to continue playing. Akaashi slowly leads you down the steps of the gym, carefully looking over at you every few paces to make sure that you are okay, and to double check that this is really happening to him. When you got to the trainer he explained everything to her before asking if you wanted him to step out. You couldn’t help the blush that covered your entire face as the trainer shooed him to just sit down instead because if you were hurt you’d need someone to walk you back. Akaashi watches nervously as the trainer checks your pupils, your reflexes and asks you basic questions before she sits back and smiles at the two of you. 

“No concussion, but you got hit fairly hard, so you should come back and see me first thing in the morning and you should definitely take it easy tonight. If you notice a headache, poor balance, nausea, or sensitivity to light then you are going to need to come back and see me right away,” she reassures the both of you. You both leave her office together and you can’t help but feel nervous with how close he was to you, “t-thanks for taking me here Akaashi, I really appreciate it,” you say, giving him a little smile as you turned back to focus on the walk back. You snuck a little glance over at him and noticed that his cheeks were dusted pink as you walked up to the cafeteria doors. Akaashi hurried ahead of you and grabbed the door for you before helping you find ocach Nekomata to explain what had happened. Coach was understanding and was in light spirits bout it as he gave you a lecture on the importance of being aware of your surroundings. You left the cafeteria and headed back to the gym to grab your bag. When you walked int he gym the boys were still playing an intense three on three that they couldn’t be pulled away from. You noticed that your bag was completely packed and set right on top of the bench when you walked into to it you caught Akaashi’s eye for a brief moment before he went back to the game. You smiled to yourself as you went back to your room to shower and go to bed. 

The next morning was the second and last day of camp and you couldn’t help but feel nervous and excited as you got up and went to go get breakfast. YOu were one of the first people in the cafeteria as well as some of the other early risers, you went to the line and got yourself a cup of fruit, a coffee, and yogurt before scanning the cafeteria for anyone you knew. Looking around all you saw were the tall athletes that you were too intimidated to even walk by, let alone sit with at breakfast. Lucky for you Bokuto came bounding into the cafeteria followed by Akaashi and they grabbed food quickly and pulled you to join them. Bokuto asked you probably a thousand times if you were okay and told you that if he was aiming for your head that would be a perfect shot. TO which Akaashi quietly stepped on his foot under the table before turning back to you and asking if you had seen the trainer yet this morning. 

You shook your head, “I don’t know where she is,” you shrugged.

 “I can show you if you’d like,” he blushes before focusing intently on his rice. “Y-yyes please,” you blush nervously. 

Bokuto feels your awkward presence and decided to quickly jump in talking about how he thinks that it would be awesome to be as tall as Tsukishima because he could do so much more even though it’s like an inch different. You both smile at each other as Bokuto gets over excited about something little and starts goofing off with it. When you were standing up to leave Akaashi nervously grabbed your plate and stacked it with his own. You turned and looked at him shocked, but he just looked down at you before turning to go put them both away. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander up and down his muscular frame as he walked right past you, turning back and looking at you as if saying ‘are you coming’ to which you happily trailed behind him like a little duck. Once you got outside you caught right back up with him as you walked together in peaceful silence to the trainer. Akaashi grabbed the door for you as the trainer got up and greeted you both happily. She checked you out quickly again before reassuring you that you were concussion free and that you were good to go today. You both let out a sigh of relief as you left and headed back to the gym to start setting up. You went to go grab the nets and put them on but as you reached for the top one a hand reached over you and grabbed it from you. 

“I got it,” you heard from behind you. Turning around you ran straight into Akaashi. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” you panicked. You wanted nothing more than to turn invisible at that moment, but instead of saying anything back Akaashi just turned and left the storage closet as the other boys bounded in to start grabbing their equipment. You smiled softly to yourself as you watched him walk away. Little did you know Akaashi was beating himself up because he intended to talk to you, instead of say three words and leaving like a moron, but it was too late now, he’d blown his chance. 

The day went on without any major hiccups as you watched your boys win some amazing matches as well as barely lose to some of their toughest opponents. The notes you took were immaculate as you found yourself trying to ignore your obvious crush on Akaashi. The day came and went before you knew it and you had to say goodbye to everyone before the short bus ride to Nekoma High. You were excited to go back home but saddened that you wouldn’t get to see Akaashi again for another two weeks when Nekoma had their next practice match against Fukurodani. You fell asleep on the short bus ride back and got shaken awake by Lev asking if you had the keys because he had to pee. You tiredly handed him the keys before checking your phone. 

Instagram: Akaashi_Kenji has started following youInstagram: Akaashi_Kenji: Hey 

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Top 5 GOOD Things About Season Two

Oh, season two... how you hurt me so. 

Anyone who knows me knows how I feel about this game-- S2 of TWDG is my least favorite of all five games. I could probably give you a top TEN things that I hate about season two, but... while I don’t love it, I do believe that there is good to be found in it. That’s what I want to discuss today. 

I did have some help brainstorming ideas for this list, so big thanks to @pi-creates, @kaylee-wolf, @taurusicorn2400, and @daisystarss for bouncing ideas around with me! :D

5. The Lee dream sequence.

This scene is super well done. The only reason that it’s so low on the list is because I tend to forget about it due to all the bullshit surrounding it. It usually isn’t until Arvo shoots Clementine that I remember Lee’s gonna show up and make me cry. Then he leaves all too quickly, and it’s back to the Kenny/Jane bullshit train. 

But pushing aside the shitshow, I love this scene. Of course, emotions are all over the place seeing Lee again given the state he was in at the end of s1. Plus there’s something about seeing baby Clementine again after being an older version of her that gets me. 

Their talk is interesting, too, calling back to your choices about Lilly and Carley/Doug, plus discussing Duck being bit. The part that’s always stood out to me, and I’m sure everyone else, is when Clementine asks Lee why people do the things they do.

And Lee’s response is one that doesn’t just apply to s2, it applies to several characters over the course of the series: “Clem, people don't always make sense... 'Cause bad things happen to everyone. And it's hard to keep bein' yourself after they do.”

As the conversation goes on, he also says, “Well, it's not like math, Clem. Sometimes there just isn't a right answer... but part of growing up is doing what's best for the people you care about...even if sometimes...that means hurting someone else.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“...It’s not that easy.” 

Ugh, it’s so good. It ends with Lee asking what he can say to make Clementine feel better, and it really just hurts because y’know it’s not real, y’know that Clementine’s dreaming all of this and Lee’s going to go away.

Overall a powerful scene that gets me every time. 

4. Clementine walking through the snowstorm

Okay look.... I adore this scene. Everything about it. 

Like okay, we have the stupid bullshit that is Kenny and Jane being literal children in the truck, then we nearly crash. Kenny leaves to look for gas, Jane gets Clementine to drive which dumb idea Jane and she crashes. 

That part sucks, but then the actual greatness begins. Jane runs off with AJ, and Clementine’s left alone with nothing but her gun as she begins her walk through the terrible blizzard. 

It has such a sense of loneliness to it-- hearing Clementine shiver and walk around calling out for help before going silent, the song ‘It’s Out There’ that plays while the wind whips and whistles, and then seeing all the frozen walkers standing around like statues really gives you a sense that something terrible is going to happen. It’s this weird calm before the storm kind of thing that also happens to take place during a harsh snow fall? if that makes sense? 

It’s a beautiful scene but it’s also sad, y’know? Sad because once again, Clementine is all alone. She’s been through so much bullshit, and this bullshit train isn’t even at it’s final stop. She’s alone, she’s still injured from when Arvo shot her, she’s gonna freeze to death if she doesn’t keep moving, she has no idea where the fuck Kenny, Jane, and AJ are, and just... it’s a lot. 

But damn it, it’s so good. 

3. AJ is born

AJ being born is one of the best things to happen in S2, and not just because AJ is a super interesting character himself in S2 or even what his being born does for the story. 

If AJ wasn’t born here, then we wouldn’t have had him in TFS where he finally got to become this compelling character and player in the overall story. Don’t get me wrong, his birth does bring an cool aspect to S2 when you willfully ignore how the hell he’s managed to stay alive and healthy the entire time.

Not only that, but we get to see the start of Clementine’s relationship with him. It doesn’t matter what choices you pick, Clementine shows time and time again that she cares about AJ. She nearly breaks down when she believes he died in the snow before the Kenny and Jane fight, then cries again when she discovers he’s alive. 

I enjoy the big sister aspect they went with for Clementine [it definitely beats ANF’s mom nonsense] and I like the growth it shows with her relationship to Rebecca as well... even though that could’ve been written a lot smoother. Rebecca just kind of does a 180 and they blame it on pregnant hormones which.... eh, okay sure. 

For all it’s flaws, this season gave us the start of AJ and I can’t hate it for that, y’know? 

2. Carver is a pretty great antagonist

I like Carver. I think he’s a great antagonist and I really wish they hadn’t killed him off as early as they did.

I find him to be a fascinating character study, y’know? 

From the very beginning, even before we get to physically meet him, we’re told that Carver is a threat. The cabin group are running from someone, and we can easily put the pieces together that Rebecca might be pregnant with his baby rather than Alvin’s.

Then we actually get to meet him when he comes to the cabin and it’s well executed. From Sarah having a panic attack at seeing a glimpse of him through the window, to his friendly and charismatic nature, to the way he talks to Clementine and just... it’s unsettling.

He’s clever, and he knows that Clementine’s covering for the cabin group, but he’s trying to trick her into giving him info. I also hate how smug he gets when he finds the photo of Sarah, but then he just looks at her, and asks, “You have no idea who these people are, do you?” or whatever and just... something about that, y’know? 

Then his “You have a nice day,” as he leaves and you know he’s coming right back with more people, so the group has gotta go. 

Then of course comes his later scenes where he shows up with his people to the lodge, murders Walter while saying he didn’t want to do it but Kenny left him no choice, and he can possibly murder Alvin if Kenny keeps shooting which is a huge holy shit moment because of how Rebecca reacts. 

Ugh, y’know just the way Carver talks to Rebecca and is so matter-of-fact about the baby being his and how he justifies his actions. Like, we can’t forget Reggie and how Carver threw him off the roof only to turn around like “I liked Reggie, he was chill, but he was weak.”

I dunno man, it’s super well done!

I truly believe Carver could’ve gone down as the best antagonist in the series if the writers hadn’t killed him off so damn early to make more room for Kenny to become the new antagonist of the season. Ugh.

I don’t even have an issue with how he died, either. Having Kenny kill him the way he did makes sense and it’s brutal, it was just premature.

Anyway, Carver’s pretty great. One of the best parts of S2. 

1. Clementine 

I mean, are we really surprised? Clementine is what makes this game playable. She’s the best written, most consistent character [which I know is a bit iffy because we do make choices for her but ya get me] and her growth over the season is the most compelling compared to the other characters. 

Hell, of the four Clementine’s we get across the series, this Clementine is my second favorite! She’s fantastic! 

I also love how self-aware she is that her group is just a bunch of morons and she’s gotta do everything around here, but then the same group underestimates her time and time again even though she’s proven herself to be the most competent. 

And on top of that, she goes through so much bullshit. Right from the start, Christa’s still cold to her after what happened to Omid and the baby, then she gets separated from Christa and nearly drowns in a river, then she comes across a dog that attacks and nearly killing her, forcing her to fight back which kills the dog, and then when she finds some decent people, she passes out and this group thinks it’s a walker bite because their “doctor” is incompetent. They lock her up in a shed because ??? so she has to break in and steal supplies to sew up her own arm, which she does and you feel the pain of it the whole way through, BUT THEN she gets attacked by a walker and has to fight it off before the dumb dumb crew come in to help her. 

And that’s just the first part of episode one. 

It’s like the writers were like “Hey, let’s torture Clem so that we can get easy sympathy points from the audience” and then dialed it back a bit because if you look at some of the initial concepts for this season... oof.

But really, S2 in a nutshell is basically “Clementine does anything and gets punished for it.” 

However, it’s not all bad and a lot of it does make her story all the more interesting as it progresses. She goes from a young girl who needs a group to survive, to a survivor herself who is capable of taking care of herself and those she loves. 

This part pertains to my personal ending for this game-- So, by the time we reach the shit show that is the Kenny and Jane fight, I want Clementine to get as far away from both of them as fucking possible. For me, the best endings Clementine can have is to either go alone, or to go to Wellington. 

Wellington’s my personal favorite because I like the idea of Clementine being in a community with strong walls and people to help with AJ. I mean, we gotta throw out the logic when it comes to AJ surviving because in every single endings, he should be dead. 

Honestly, that’s the only thing that keeps me from shooting Kenny. Hell, in my opinion, walking off into the woods with him instead of staying at Wellington is the worst ending in the entire game-- I’d rather go with ding dong dingus Jane than stick around with Kenny, but for me, neither of those are a good conclusion to Clementine’s story and character in S2

Anyway, endings aside, Clementine is the only part of the story that doesn’t make me side eye the writers the way I do for everything else... well, I side eye them sometimes but S2 as a whole is such a mess that it takes a lot to not straight up glare at them and the amount of fuck ups they had here. 

Clementine is hands down the best part of S2.

--- Honorable Mentions

-Big brother Luke in the first couple episodes -This game does have a bunch of different endings that you can get, which is pretty neat until you realize that they mean practically nothing come ANF and they’re totally unbalanced sooo... nice try? -Uncle Pete is pretty cool -The setting of the ski resort is super nice and cozy until murder happens. -In fact, the snowy nature is visually pretty and the skyboxes are some of the best in the series. 

---

So what do you think? Do you agree with this list? What are some of your favorite parts of Season 2? Are you looking at this and asking where the Kenny entry is? Well, I’m sure if you scroll up just a wee bit, you’ll find your answer. 

Have any suggestions for future T5F’s? Feel free to send ‘em in! :D

Next week’s T5F Top 5 Character Deaths That Made Me Side-Eye the Writers 

[marril96]

Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: An encounter with a homicidal witch forces Rowena to confront painful memories.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

Getting roped into helping Sam and Dean out with a yet another case wasn't how you'd planned to spend your afternoon, but it wasn't as if you were in a position to say no. Rowena, ever the helpful puppy (she resented the remark), said yes before Sam had even finished the question. She was prepared for a job as soon as her phone rang with his name flashing on the screen. So, as her girlfriend, you went with.

In all fairness, Rowena told you you didn't have to go. It seemed like a simple enough job; a witch case, if hex bags left by the victims' bodies were anything to go by. She could handle it without an issue. But you insisted on accompanying her. After all, the two of you had a deal — if one was headed into a possibly dangerous situation, the other was to go with as backup. No ifs. No buts.

The Winchester were well aware the two of you were a package deal. It wasn't an issue. In fact, they welcomed all the help they could get. Even if you had to force yourself into providing it.

The truth of the matter was, you hated hunting jobs. If it were up to you, you and Rowena would cut all contact with the brothers and their friends and live out the rest of your days holed up in your little home, leaving only on occasion for world-exploring vacations. It wasn't that you didn't trust your girlfriend; you did, sometimes more than you trusted yourself. You knew she could handle things on her own. She had, after all, done so for centuries, and would for many more to come. She was one of the most powerful witches around. If there was anyone who could wipe the floor with humans and monsters — even archangels — alike, it was her.

But the prophecy of Rowena's death at Sam's hands was still there. The two were friends (even if Rowena's pride opposed using the word), but accidents could still happen. Just because he didn't want to hurt her, didn't want to kill her, didn't mean he couldn't do it. You felt much safer being there with her than letting her out all on her own.

Sam was as good a man as a hunter could be. He treated Rowena well. He seemed to care about her as much as she cared about him. He was kind to her. Respected her. Valued her skills. Never talked down to her or mistreated her. Those days were behind them. Were it not for the prophecy, and, truth be told, for the fact that, as powerful as she was, Rowena always managed to get herself into trouble of some sort, you would have no issue staying behind.

So you put up with it. You bit your pride and helped out to the best of your ability. The sooner things were dealt with, the better; four helping hands were certainly better — faster — than two.

As far as cases went, this one was fairly easy. The witch was quite powerful, had done a good job at masking his presence, but it didn't take Rowena long to track him down. Latching onto a source of powerful magic was easy enough, and so was pinpointing its location. With her power unbound, there weren't many things that presented an issue.

This witch may have possessed great power, but he was no match for Rowena.

The house he was residing in was quite lovely. It was big, luxurious, built for power, for privilege, for envy of guests and passersby. It looked no different than the other houses in the neighborhood. This was a place of wealth, of power, and it showed.

As expected, the witch had protected his home well; it took Rowena half an hour to disable the wardings and magical booby traps he'd installed. Or the majority of them, at the very least. She warned you and the Winchesters to be careful. Sneaking into a witch's house was tricky business. Just because the coast looked clear didn't mean it was. For all you knew, the entire damn house was a giant trap.

Sneaking in was easy. Far too easy for this sort of monster. Which should have been a clue, a warning for you to be careful, but, instead, you let your mind wander to your home. Your warm, safe home. Where you would go soon, after all this was over, and you and Rowena would spend the evening cuddling in bed and teasing each other. Just a few more minutes, and you would be in the Impala, then at the bus station, and then at home. Sweet, sweet home.

Were you not absent-minded, maybe you would have noticed the witch's approaching footsteps, light as a ghost's. Maybe you would have noticed him sneaking up on Sam and Dean and hissing out a spell to throw them against the wall and incapacitate them. Maybe you would have noticed his hands reaching for you before finding yourself tangled up in his arms that held you against him in a firm, snake-like grip.

He was tall. Not quite as tall as Sam, but close enough. His body was lean, all muscle, thick and strong. He smelled like a strange mixture of spices — or rather herbs — and cologne; witch and man in one. Before you could utter a spell, his hand was over your mouth, fingers digging into your skin, manicured nails biting crescents.

"Don't even think about it, Rowena," he said as Rowena mouthed a spell, English accent deep in his voice. Posh, almost charming — almost, for every word of his oozed malice, cruelty. He sounded pleasant, but there was a note of something dark, something dangerous hiding behind it, creeping underneath the surface like a prowler. "I don't need incantations to get my magic working. I just have to think it, and…" Following his will, a painting slid from a wall. Fell down into a heap of splintered wood and glass. He chuckled, smug, too pleased with himself for his own good. "I'm not an animal."

Good for you, you thought, wishing so bad you could say it straight to his face. You get a fucking gold star.

Rowena swallowed. Held her head up like the queen that she was, proud, powerful. Not losing her cool for a single beat. "Let her go."

It was a command that left no room for argument, though you had no doubt the witch would try. Something told you the man had always been a rebel. Even when it worked against hs favor.

"What would be the fun in that?" His hold on you tightened. You groaned, uncomfortable, struggling to breathe. "I've got to say, you've changed quite a bit, Rowena."

Rowena swallowed. Sucked in a breath and put on that face you knew well — one of deception, of protection. A mask to shield herself from the world, from the danger that lurked around. From unpleasant memories she wished would stop plaguing her mind.

So she knew this witch. Why hadn't she said anything? Why had she kept/ it a secret?

"You remember me, don't you?" the witch said. You couldn't see his face, but you could picture a smirk as big as his pride adorning it. "It's been — what? Two hundred years? That's quite a while, but in sure you remember me somewhere in that clever little head of yours."

Rowena forced a smile. "Like you said, it's been a while."

"Really? I never forgot you."

Her eyes briefly connected with yours before falling to her feet. Color drained from her face, her usually rosy cheeks washed out, white as old, tattered sheets. Her fists clenched, knuckles taut, pale from the pressure.

The witch licked his lips, and your stomach turned with disgust. He said, "I remember you quite well. I admit, it was a bit hard to recognize you at first. You've gone through quite a change. What is it kids call it these days? A glow up. You've had a glow up."

Rowena avoided his eyes.

He continued, "Still, wasn't too hard to figure out it's you. See, I knew you were hunting me. I know all about you. Well, all about these two chuckle heads—" he gestured to Sam and Dean, who were glued to the floor, magic holding them down despite their resistance, "—but through my research on them I stumbled across you. You've done a good job at keeping a low profile. Gotta hand you that. But you've still got neighbors, and they love to talk."

Great. As if spreading rumors around wasn't enough; now your neighbors had snitched on you to an unhinged witch. Maybe a curse on the neighborhood was in order. There were a few you wanted to try out, if you managed to get out of this mess unscattered.

"I'm a bit disappointed, though," the witch said. "I mean, really — hunters? You're working with hunters? Seriously?" He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "And here I thought you were running from them. How the tides have turned." A beat, then, "At least your girlfriend's cute." His fingers tapped your cheek. "Does she know about us?"

You frowned, confused. What did he mean?

Rowena swallowed.

"She doesn't!" The witch all but beamed. "You didn't tell her? And you still brought her here? How could you, Rowena? Don't you think she deserves to know?"

You groaned, trying to get curses and insults out. Hating that you couldn't.

"I know, right?" he said condescendingly. "I'd be mad, too."

You weren't mad — not at Rowena, at least. Whatever it was that had happened between them, you were sure she had good reasons to keep it hidden. She was a flawed creature, bratty, dramatic, but she was a good girlfriend. She didn't lie to you. Would never do anything — not on purpose — to harm you or your relationship.

"What was it Catriona called you? Raggedy Ann?" The witch pretended to ponder on it. "Not so raggedy anymore, are you?"

Catriona Loughlin? He knew the Loughlins?

"I knew you were hot. She and her brothers laughed at me when I told them about us, but there's proof right here—" he pointed at Rowena; at her curls that fell down her shoulders like streams of silky fire; at her white blouse with one button undone, leaving just enough for a taste of naughty thoughts; at her dress pants and pumps, which teased imagination, let it run wild "—I was right. You are hot. When you take a bath."

Rowena flinched as if struck. Grit her teeth. Squeezed her fingers into fists so hard the skin of her knuckles turned white as the bone underneath it.

"Catriona told me I should've fucked a pig instead. Would've been cleaner." The witch shrugged. "Maybe so, but I didn't really mind the filth so much. It was disgusting, yes, but you more than made up for it. Y'know, I think you're one of the best I ever had. I can say that without shame now." He licked his lips. Closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the memory. "You were exquisite."

"Motherfucker!" you exclaimed — or tried to for it came out as a distorted mumble. You son of a bitch! I'm gonna kill you! If only you could say it. If only you could scream it, loud and clear, straight in his face as your magic gnawed at his skin, tore him apart from the inside, fueled by the rage that boiled with you. A rage that twisted and coiled and burned like a volcano nearing an eruption. That begged to be let free to swallow him, to obliterate him.

You pushed against his arms, tried to tear free. Tried to sink your teeth into the soft, meaty flesh of his palm. But no matter how hard you fought, he kept you in place with ease. His laugh, a mocking, taunting melody, rang in your ears.

"Easy, girl. No need to be jealous. It was a long time ago. But do tell, is she still excellent in bed?"

"Fuck you!" Another mumble.You hated it. Hated yourself for being so weak to fight him off, to free yourself from his deadly grip. I'll kill you. I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you, you sick, twisted mother—

"I'll take that as a yes."

Rowena swallowed a lump in her throat. Held her head up, brave face on. "You know what they say. Why fix something that isn't broken?"

"True," the witch agreed. "True. She's a lucky girl."

At least one thing he was right about. He had no idea how much; how lucky you were, how privileged, to be with Rowena.

"God, you were so great. So tiny, but so skilled. I thought you'd just do it to get it over with, but you enjoyed it as well. I saw it in your eyes. You were having so much fun."

She flashed that smile that feigned nonchalance and hid the turmoil, the utmost hurt coiling inside of her. "It's a shame you didn't put in nearly half the effort. It was an encounter for mutual benefit. I'd done my part. You…" She clicked her tongue. "There was plenty left to be desired."

The witch's hands stiffened around you. His heart jumped, the vein on his neck thudding loudly against your scalp. "Such a tease, aren't you?" he said in nonchalance you would have bought as genuine had you not felt his body's reaction to Rowena's comments. Everyone had a weakness. He might have pretended otherwise, but he wasn't invincible. Magic couldn't protect him from wounded pride.

"I'm serious, Janus," Rowena said, and meant it. No more pretend. No more lies. "I've had plenty of partners, and none have been as… inexperienced as you. Was I your first? You poor dear. I'd say it was an honour, but it truly wasn't."

Janus gulped down a lump that blossomed in his throat. "You're real funny." Rowena shrugged innocently. He looked down at you. "Is she always this funny?"

She's absolutely hilarious, you wanted to say.  Instead, what came out was a gargle of words that didn't resemble your uttered "Fuck you" in the slightest, though you were pretty sure the look on your face have away exactly what you said.

"I do believe one thing," he said. "You've had plenty of lovers. Even back then you reeked of usage — along with general filth. You'd given birth, hadn't you? I could tell." He winked. "Trust me."

Rowena, bless her, took it in stride. "So you say."

"I'm not lying."

He was. You could feel it.

"Okay," Rowena said with a shrug.

He grit his teeth. "I'm serious."

"As am I."

"You're more confident than you used to be. That little ragdoll that showed up at my door was weak. Her favourite word was 'please.'" He smirked. "God, I loved that 'please.'"

"She's had centuries of growth," Rowena said. "You're right in that she was weak. She wasn't proficient at using her wits. But, as you've already established, she's changed. She's smarter now. Have you heard of a wee thing called distraction?"

"Wha—"

The word fell silent in Janus's mouth as a gunshot, loud, deafening, echoed. Blood gushed in a spray of crimson, staining your shoulder and cheek. His hold of you loosened and you instantly wriggled out, pushing him off. His body collapsed like a sack of potatoes, limp, motionless. Red seeped out of/out his temple, staining the fine, white carpet underneath him. Filling it up, making it swell with it. His eyes were wide open; they stared up, into the ceiling, into open space. Into Heaven and Hell themselves.

"You okay?" Sam asked, a gun clutched tightly in his hands.

"I-yes," you stammered. Your ears were ringing, but you weren't injured. You weren't harmed. You swallowed a large breath. "That was… intense."

"Good shot, Sammy," Dean said.

Sam nodded with an awkward smile. His eyes shifted to Rowena. "Are you okay?"

A flicker of pain crossed her face, but she quickly smoothened her expression into one of pride, of utmost dignity. "Never better."

The brothers bought it. You knew better, but decided to keep it to yourself. There would be time for talking later, when you were alone, and, preferably, away from a corpse.

"Are you sure you're okay, Y/N?" Rowena asked, and that was sincere. She looked you over in concern. A mother cat appraising her young, checking them for injuries.

"I'm fine." You squeezed her hand in emphasis. Her fingers tightened around yours, held tight. An unspoken promise that she was there, that, no matter how hard it was or how badly it hurt, you could count on her.

You appreciated it. You needed her. And, more important than that, she needed you. Parts of her past were a touchy subject; to have it dredged up in front of everyone so casually, used as a weapon against her… It had to hurt. She pretended it didn't, but you knew her better than that.

The brothers had taken care of the body in a matter of minutes, and it wasn't long before the four of you were on the road, heading straight for the Bunker. The ride was silent to an almost uncomfortable degree. Dean made a few quips here and there, annoying Sam. Finally, sensing the gloom in the air, he put on some music you weren't a fan of, but you still appreciated something to focus on. Something other than that horrid man's hands holding you in place as his wicked tongue tore into Rowena. It was the last thing you wanted to think about.

You laid your head on her lap for the reminder of the trip. Instinctively, she started caressing your cheek. Rubbing your shoulder. Running her fingers over your skin in invisible doodles. A little game you appreciated, you craved more than ever. I cherish you, every touch said. I love you. Your heart swelled with reciprocation.

Not many words were exchanged at the Bunker, either. The two of you wanted to head home, but the brothers convinced you to stay for the night. It was late, they said. You were both tired and needed rest. It was a hard fact to argue with, so you accepted.

The room they gave you was small and cosy. Nothing special in terms of decor, but good enough. Perfectly acceptable for a sleepover. It wouldn't be fair to complain; you were guests, after all. The brothers were doing you a favor.

You'd just gotten out of a shower, clad in one of Sam's old shirts that fell to your knees like a dress, when Rowena said, "I didn't enjoy it."

She was on the bed, in an oversized shirt herself, having had her shower right before.

"What?"

"Janus. I didn't—I didn't enjoy being with him. I had to."

"You don't have to ex—"

"You deserve to know the kind of woman you lay in bed with every night." Redness rimmed her eyes. She blinked the tears away, willed them back. "After the Loughlins threw me out, I went in search of a new hideout. The British Men of Letters were after me. I was weak and scared. I'd heard rumors of another powerful witch residing nearby, so I sought him out."

A nervous smile flickered over her mouth.

"At first, like the Loughlins, he wanted nothing to do with me. I wasn't the kind of witch he was interested in helping. But when I made him the same offer, he accepted."

"Rowena—"

She shook her head, cutting you off. "It was horrid, but I did what I had to do to survive."

You knew that. She'd done plenty of things to ensure her survival. Some horrible, others less so. What mattered was that she lived. You couldn't fault her for that.

"It only happened once," she said. "I was out of there as soon as I felt it was safe."

"You haven't done anything wrong." People did all kinds of things when they were desperate. Stupid things. Reckless things. Heartbreaking things. That didn't make them bad. It just made them human.

That was what Rowena was — human. Underneath all her protective walls and the magic coursing through her veins, she was still a woman. A human being that felt and hurt and bled just like anyone else.

A moment passed in silence. Then, "He's not the only one I did it with. There were others."

You'd figured as much. Three years ago when she'd first told you about the Loughlins, you suspected there was more to the story. That there were more times where she was desperate and scared and alone, and she had no other way to survive than to bargain her body. You never brought it up; it wasn't your place to ask about such intimate, painful details. It wasn't your business. The last thing you wanted was for her to think you were judging her.

"You have to understand, I wasn't always this powerful. Sometimes I just needed to survive, and I did."

"I know," you said firmly, with all the conviction you could muster. Your eyes found hers, locked with them. "I understand."

"You do?"

"Yeah." You settled next to her on the bed. Reached for her hand. "You didn't do anything wrong. They took advantage of you."

A good person would have helped her without asking for anything in return. A good person would have given her food and shelter, exchanged a few kind words with her, listened to her plight. Would have befriended her, protected her instead of taking what they wanted. What the circumstances had forced her to offer.

"You're not mad?"

"Why would I be?" You knew she had a past. As far as things went, this wasn't the worst she'd done.  Not even close. "I don't care what happened before. It's not like you cheated on me."

That prompted her to chuckle. "I suppose not."

You smiled. "You're my girl. I love you no matter what."

You loved her when she was nothing but a wicked witch who loved no one but herself. You loved her when she killed people, innocent and guilty alike. You loved her when she ruined and destroyed everything in her path. When she thought of you as nothing but an accessory, a poor, wee witch following her around like a puppy, desperate for her to teach her the ways of magic. You loved her when she changed, and when she suffered, and when she tossed and turned in the night as nightmares plagued her dreams.

You loved her through everything, and had taught her to love you back.

Her past couldn't change that.

Rowena's cheeks flushed with color. "What have I done to deserve you?"

"You're you." That was more than good enough for you.

A tear spilled down her cheek. "Bloody sap."

"Hey, you started it!" you teased.

She scoffed. You shrugged, nonchalant.

She squeezed your hand. After a moment of silence, she said, "I love you, as well."

"Who's the sap now?" She shot you a glare that had to have killed before, and you laughed. "You're so precious."

And you loved her for it. So much. Too much.

The past be damned.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @evil-regal-vampiress @hellbentredhead @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock @fangirlxwritesx67 @theeasterbilby @midnight-lestrange @oster-hagen @impala-1979​

[zuffer-weird-girl]

What if kai’s s/o goes to have tea with her friends and Kai sends someone to watch them from afar and they start talking about their marriage and kai’s s/o is just gushing over him and her friends are like he can’t be that great so she calls him and tells him it’s an emergency and then she’s like see I told you he is perfect

Me. That would be me. I already gush about him with my friends.

"Pleaaaase! I don't see then since the high school!" You almost whined to your husband as he only furrowed his eyebrows together.

"They are disorganized clearly. Wanting suddenly your presence for exactly tonight."

You winced at that. You knew how your husband was a very organized and perfectionist person, so things planned out of the sudden left him boiling in rage, especially when he was involved.

And your friends didn't helped much your case when he wanted to spend this night with you as well...

He growled while sitting down on the bed, you following and standing right in front of him.

"Kai they are always busy, so maybe this was a opportunity for them..." you tried in a gentle tone, only receiving a displease glare of his that clearly said 'do I look like I care?'

You sighed while rubbing the back of your neck. Thinking on something that could ease his mind a bit.

Your eyes locked with the bathroom that you just went out off a few minutes ago from a shower.

Perfect.

"Kai~" You cooed, not bothering with his glare and setting yourself on his side. "It will not take much longer I promise."

He rolled his eyes at that, resting his head on his hand as a sigh escaped his clothed lips.

You pouted before nestling your head in the crook of his neck, smirking at the way his mjscle tensed at the contact but yet no.hives appeared on his skin.

"Please? I swear I will come back as early as I can, and I will be all yours tomorrow and for the rest of the night." You brushed your lips against his skin, smirking at feeling his shiver but he insisted on that stoic face of his.

You didn't mind it. After all it was hot as fuck.

"Not that I am not yours every day anyway.." you purred close to his ear, him grunting at that "I." You kissed close to his ear "belong." Then his covered cheek bone "to you. Always."

You yelped at the sudden grasp on you, pullimg your frame straight to his lap as he took off his mask.

Chisaki scoffed, but his eyes were exactly like a hunter would look at his prey.

"You better control your words." He growled before resting his hands on your thighs "Angel of mine."

You hummed before getting close to him, looking at him with now puppy eyes as you embraced his neck.

He sighed in annoyance at that before slapping your butt, grinning at your yelp.

"Be here before ten or eleven. Or else I won't hesitate on a punishment."

"Oh I like the sound of that~!" Another slap which this time you giggled on his neck.

"Kinky little shit angel." He growled in false disaproval.

~

He waited the exact moment you left the door before he demanded Mimic and Chrono's presence. Pointing at the exit you just went out.

"Make sure she doesn't get hurt and I want all the details of those sick 'friends'. Don't let them to see you."

"Yes Overhaul."

"Sure thing boss."

These two are not even fazed anymore...

~

"OH MY GOSH COME HERE!" your friends yelled in union while you laughed, accepting their hugs and greetings.

"We don't see you in AGES!" One of them exclaimed as soon as she sitted down.

"Sorry! Busy life and all that shit!" You laughed at their mockery gasps while the oldest of the group called the waiter.

Neither of you aware of Chrono and Mimic not much away.

"One of them had in total 14 boyfriends apparently." Mimic whistled at looking at the folders as he wiped his teeth with a toothpick whiel Chrono taked his drink.

"Bad influence in Overhaul's opinion." He said while looking at his cellphone.

"Guys you won't believe, but my boyfriend just asked for my hand last week!" Some of the table screamed in joy while the other half clapped their hands.

"Congrats!"

"Thank you! He payed a lot for this ring! But is so beautiful, look!"

You all awed at how beautiful the tring in her hand looked.

"Pff, going to marry just to be stuck." One friend of yours scoffed in your side as she took a bite on her snack "Take (Y/n)-chan as example."

"Oh sure! (Y/n)-chan?" You hummed, still with the straw of your cold deink in your mouth. "How is marriage going? Your husband is the affectionateor cold type?"

"Cold? The man is from the freaking yakusa as I know by far! He is SCARY and COLD!"

You arched a eyebrow at that one before placing your drink down.

Mimic and Chrono perked their ears up immediately as Chrono silently dialogue Chisaki's number.

"What is-" Chisaki's blood boiled at beating both shushes of his commurates.

How dare they?

"This is your chick talking about ya Overhaul, might be interested."

That shutted him up...

"Answering you guys question, marrying my husband was the best decision of all of my life!" You exclaimed while some rolled their eyes and others awed.

"Please, is not like your husband can listen us! Spill the goods!"

"What isn't good about him?" You sighed dreamily "He is just, heck, the definition of perfection. I mean, not only he is a gentle almost all of the time but also has the body of a greek god!"

Chrono and Mimic muffled their snicker, thankfully not seing the faint blush forming on Chisaki's face and ears.

"Aham... But, like, marriage isn't always sunshine and rainbows, my husband is sometimes a little shit who can't even fry a egg! And daress to answer me on a argument even!"

"Yeah (Y/n), I think you just drolling on that husband of yours way too much. I mean c'mon... he can't be that great, everyone has flaws. And really? Greek god? Now you went overboard."

Chrono had to hold back Mimic at that one, preventing him to snao the woman's neck for 'InSUltIng ThE BoSS Of ThE YaKUSa LiKE ThAT'.

"Mimic set down. (Y/n) might see you two with a that fuss." Chisaki growled on the phone.

"I... I beg you pardon?" The three man arched their eyebrows at the sudden drastic change of your voice.

The cherry and full of joy sound of your voice had gotten into a cold, offended and threatening one... a very much similiar with Overhaul's himself...

Chisaki thought the worst as he got up from his chair, clenching onto his cellphone.

"Chrono, Mimic. What happened?"

"No fucking idea."

"Then search to know." He growled before he mentally sighed at hearing your voice again.

"Would you all give me a few minutes? I need to prove apparently something."

You got up from your chair and passed through the tables... only to stop and took a few steps back only to spot Mimic and Chrono there. Cellphone hanging up.

"Fuck." Mimic cursed as Chrono sighed in defeat.

Instead of being angry or even uncomfortable with their presence you smiled at then, shocking both.

"Hi Irinaka and Kurono-kun!"

"Did you imbeciles just showed yourselves to her? I swear that when you two get back I will-" you asked with your at Chro o if you could pick up his cellphone which he merely nodded.

"Kai?"

He stiffed subsconciously at hearing your sweet voice.

"Angel." He greeted back monotonously, easing up a bit at hearing that sweet laugh.

"After years of dating with you sending bodyguatds all the time with me, is not now that I am going to be surprised by it."

"They did a despicable job apparently." He growled back as you giggled.

"Can you come over here? Is not far from home please?"

"Chrono and Mimic can bring you back, no need for me to pick you up (y/n)." He deadpanned before he heard your whines and pleas.

Shit, he could only imagine that face of your with those cursed puppy eyes.

"Pretty please?"

You beamed happily after a few seconds at heafing his irritated sigh and a grumble that he was on his way.

"You two can go back home and rest guys, please." You looked at both men who visibly relaxed at your words.

"We will still wait for you and Overhaul though (Y/n) not only is orders but-"

"Is late as fuck." Chrono glared at Mimic whose only shrugged.

Not even a few minutes later Chisaki engered the place, black mask on his face as he scanmed the area with a stoic and disgusted look.

"Kai!" You went towards him and gave him the most dumb in lovs smile that he ever saw, he blinked before sighing out loud.

"Had enough?" He crossed his arms while opening his eyes to stare you down.

"Actually there is just this one thing, can you follow me please?" You pleaded while he groaned but attempted to your wish.

Your friends tilted their heads whils other seemed like their eyes were going to pop out of their heads. You smirked devilish at that but remained with your sweet voice and expression.

"Ladies. This is the man whose I had pride to call my husband!" You showed him with your palm "The young leader of the Shie Hassaikai."

Some gagged while others ttied to form words as their jaws hanged open.

You giggled at their expressions and your husband confused as heck one.

"What did I told you? Wha did I told you all?!" You exclaimed while dramatically waving yojr hands towards Chisaki, giving enfasis on his whole appearance.

"MY HUSBAND IS THE HANDSOMEST GOODEST LOOKING OUT THERE BITCHES! BE JEALOUS BECAUSE THIS WHOLE PACKAGE IS MINE!" you laughed maniacally, and if it wasn't for all of your years of knowing Chisaki, you could never tell he was dying inside as the point if his ears were bloody red.

"(Y/N)..." he groaned in irritation while bringing a hand to his face, to hide his blush or to ease his headache you couldn't know.

"Look at those arms and chest! Strong and so powerful! His hair is so soft and perfect and by god THOSE EYES!" you yelped and blushed crinsom red as your husband just picked you up in bridal style, sucefully shutting you up.

He glared daggers towards your friends before walking away without a word.

"TOLD YOU ALL HE WAS HUSBAND MATERIAL! SUCK IT!" you shouted before yelping with a giggle at the pinch he gave it to you.

"Shut your mouth." He growled while only putting you down after you two got out. "Explain."

"You're just too perfect and beautiful that it hurtssss" you whined before he flipped your forehead, smirk on his lips behind that cursed mask.

"Idiot angel, aren't you?"

[datheetjoella]

Fantober 2020, Day 26: Art Class

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 26/31 (read the full collection here) Word count: 1,947 Tags: Canonverse, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Nudity Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

                                              ------------------------------------ When Haruka asked him if he wanted to model for a drawing he had to make for his art elective, Makoto agreed immediately. He was happy to help Haruka out wherever he could and he felt honoured that Haruka wanted to draw him for an assignment. Although he imagined it would be difficult to sit still for an extensive amount of time, he was pretty excited about trying something new with Haruka. If he got cramps from holding the same position for too long, Haruka would surely give him a break.

But when Haruka laid out all his supplies and set out a chair for him, that excitement quickly diminished.

"Take off your clothes."

"Why?" Makoto asked with a frown.

"It's an anatomy assignment," Haruka explained, "I have to draw your body and I can't see your muscles and bone structure through your sweater and jeans."

That did make sense so Makoto stripped down to his underwear without any protests, though he did feel a bit self-conscious. Being in his leg skins at the pool was so much different from being in his underwear on an assignment Haruka's professor would grade. But he told himself they'd view it with a professional eye and not a scrutinising one, and they probably had to look at hundreds of other drawings so he hopefully wouldn't stand out too much.

"Okay, how do you want me to sit?"

"Makoto," Haruka said with a deadpan expression. "Take off all your clothes."

The blood vessels in Makoto's cheeks nearly burst at that. "What?"

"You have to be nude in this image, it's in the criteria."

"Why didn't you tell me that sooner? Being in my underwear is already embarrassing enough, but being naked is just impossible!"

"Because you'd immediately say no."

"Of course I would! Don't they provide nude models in your class?"

"They do, but you were sick that day and I stayed home to take care of you, remember?" Haruka said, "All the other classes already had their sessions too and it's not like they will hire another nude model for me alone, so I have to do this assignment at home."

Damn. It was his fault Haruka missed this class so it was his responsibility to help him catch up. But no matter how guilty Makoto felt, he wasn't sure if he could do this. "Isn't there anyone else you can ask?"

"Sure, let me call Asahi and ask him if I can stare at his naked body for hours while I sketch the outline of his di-"

"Okay, I get it!" Makoto interrupted before he could pass out from heatstroke. "This is completely professional, right?"

"Of course, it's artistic nude. The only person who'll get to see this beside us is my prof, I promise."

In the end, Makoto could never refuse Haruka when he needed him. With a sigh of defeat, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and tugged his boxer-briefs down. "How should I sit?"

"Facing me. Put your left foot on the seat and lean your right elbow on the backrest, hand on your knee. Put your other foot on the floor and let your other arm hang limply beside you."

Those were some specific instructions. Haruka probably put a lot of thought into this, so Makoto couldn't disappoint him no matter how shy he felt. "Like this?" he asked when he assumed the right position.

"Hmm." Haruka ran his eyes over his form critically. "Actually, instead of putting your hand on your knee, raise it to support your head. Tilt your head to the side a bit so I can see your neck."

"Alright," Makoto said and he did as Haruka told him. "How's this?"

"Better. I'll start drawing now, so don't move."

"I don't know how long I'll be able to sit like this, though."

"I figured, so let me know when you need a break."

"I will."

With that, Haruka flipped open his sketchbook and began to draw.

Makoto's gaze wandered from the lamp on the ceiling to the draped curtains, trying to divert his attention from the situation he found himself in. If he'd been told a few days ago that he would be a nude model for an art assignment, he would've laughed and brushed it off as something beyond his capabilities. While he did maintain that viewpoint, the subject was a whole lot less hilarious now.

The only sound in the room was the scratching of graphite onto paper, which made Makoto even more aware of his frantic heartbeat. Every nook and cranny of his body was not just being studied closely, but also eternalised in the sketchbook like an exhibit of all his flaws and imperfections. Each weird mole and bump and pocket of misplaced fat displayed for the whole world to see - actually, for Haruka and his professor solely, but it sure felt like the whole world.

The more time passed, the more Haruka's eyes burned on his skin and the more awkward Makoto felt. He couldn't back down anymore, so he had to repress the itching discomfort or else he'd disturb Haruka. Unconsciously, he bit his bottom lip and scrunched up his nose.

Haruka's pencil halted on the page. "I'm still drawing your general shape so it's fine for now, but once I get to your face you need to relax your expression. My professor will think I held you at gunpoint otherwise."

"Sorry," Makoto said, resisting the urge to scratch at his cheek, "It's just so embarrassing."

"But why? I see you naked all the time and you don't seem to have any issues with it then."

"But then you're also naked."

"Do you want me to take my clothes off, too?"

"That's not what I mean," Makoto said, "I don't feel embarrassed in the heat of the moment, and not even if you just see me nude either but this is different. You're completely staring me down and that makes me self-conscious."

"You didn't feel self-conscious when you sent me that picture when I was at the training camp a few weeks ago. And believe me, I stared at that every night until I got back."

"That was different too, then I couldn't see you staring," Makoto said and somehow, the temperature inside his cheeks rose even higher at the mere thought of the picture. "And I'll have you know, I was self-conscious. My finger hovered over the button for twenty minutes before I sent it and I felt so embarrassed the second I did that I almost regretted it."

"I was happy to receive it," Haruka said, putting down his sketchbook on his lap. "Do you know why?"

"Because you were, you know, excited?"

"That too, but that's not what I meant," Haruka said as he stood up and walked over to Makoto, taking a hold of his hands. "Because you're beautiful and I love your body so much. Whether it's touching or just watching, I love every part of you."

The look in Haruka's eyes was dead serious and his voice conveyed unwavering sincerity. It was rare for Haruka to state his thoughts so openly and it simultaneously made Makoto's heart skip a beat and his head avert as bashfulness flooded him.

"I'll love your body no matter how it ends up looking because it's yours and I love you," Haruka continued, cupping his jaw to make him meet his gaze. "But objectively speaking, you are incredibly good-looking. Not only your body, but your face too. You are so attractive, handsome, gorgeous, hot, sexy-"

"Haru!" Makoto interrupted, laughter bubbling up from his stomach. Haruka didn't compliment him this blatantly often, so knowing this was how Haruka truly felt about him boosted his self-esteem.

"Don't you ever be ashamed of your body, or of any part that is you, because there is nothing to be ashamed of. You're absolutely beautiful both inside and out."

"Thank you, Haru," Makoto murmured, leaning up to capture Haruka's lips in a kiss of gratitude. "You are, too."

They kissed each other again, brief but immensely loving. When Haruka pulled back, he said, "If you really don't feel comfortable with me drawing you naked, then that's okay. I'll try to find someone else."

Makoto shook his head. "It's alright. It's just you and me anyway."

"And my professor."

"And your professor," he said with a chuckle, "But your professor won't get to see me naked, but a drawing of me, so it's different. As long as I never run into them."

Haruka smiled too and with a final kiss, he went back to his cushion at the table. "If you get back into position, I'll resume drawing. I'll draw the most beautiful nude artwork she's ever seen."

Makoto nodded and moved his limbs to their assigned position.

One break and nearly two hours later, Haruka put his last pencil down. "It's finished. Want to come take a look?"

"Of course!" Makoto leapt off the chair and crouched down next to Haruka. His mouth fell agape when he saw the image he had created. "This is amazing, Haru!"

The man on the paper was very attractive, with sharp yet soft features and a toned body, but it was undeniably him. Admittedly, Makoto never stood in front of the mirror for longer than necessary, but he would if this was the body he always saw. Knowing Haruka viewed him this way was already touching, but the fact that he merely drew what was tangible almost took Makoto's breath away. Haruka had been a skilled artist since they were kids, but with each stroke and every line, he got even better.

"You truly outdid yourself, Haru. It's like you improve whenever I blink."

"Thanks," Haruka said with a small smile. "I had a great model."

"You'll definitely get a high grade on this assignment. Maybe even the highest grade in your year."

Haruka shook his head. "I'm not turning this drawing in for the assignment."

Makoto couldn't believe his ears. Had he suffered through all that embarrassment for nothing? "What, why?"

"Look at it," Haruka said, turning away his head as an adorable blush lit up his ears. "I don't want anyone else to see you like this, not even my professor."

At that, Makoto almost choked with laughter. "Are you serious? What happened to it being artistic nude?"

"It is artistic nude, but this is too private."

"What now then? Are you not going to hand anything in or are you going to try to find another model?"

"I'd like to draw you again, if that's okay with you."

"Sure, but won't you have the same issue then?"

"I'll draw you from a different angle, one that doesn't show your face or at least isn't recognisable," Haruka said, "I'll have to think of a new pose. Do you have time tomorrow evening?"

"Yeah, I don't have to work, so I'll try to finish up my homework in the afternoon," Makoto said as he shimmied his clothes back on. "You know, it was a bit scary at first, but I had a lot of fun."

"Me too," Haruka said, "Does that mean I can draw you more often?"

"Is that with or without clothes?"

"Both."

Makoto giggled again. "Alright, because you asked so nicely."

"Thanks," Haruka said, wrapping his arms around Makoto's shoulders. "You really are a great model. Very… inspiring."

Although Makoto would probably never possess the unwavering confidence some others were blessed with, Haruka always knew how to make him feel better about himself. And perhaps, through portraits and images Haruka drew of him, Makoto could learn to love himself the way Haruka loved him: wholeheartedly, all imperfections included.

[akari-hope]

So I’ve heard differing arguments relating to it, ranging from “Well, if we shun content created by this person and/or everyone who’s done anything problematic, that’s a slippery slope that’ll lead to us being unable to enjoy anything” to “It doesn’t matter if you can separate the author from their creation to an extent, there’s ultimately other content to be consumed, & shunning the work of the problematic author in order to deny them or their progeny traffic is more important than salvaging

2/4 said author’s work.” Pablo Neruda, Yukio Mishima, & JK Rowling are authors that come to mind in these discussions. (For example, I’ve seen several SPOP edits ft. Pablo Neruda’s love poetry, & when his problematic history was explained to one creator, they cited death of the author.) Another argument against the concept, or rather, against how the concept is often applied, that I see is that people cite it in order to uncritically consume whatever they want.

3/4 Yet others say that people who say this often take the concept too far, to the point where no one can enjoy anything, ever, unless they’re obsessively analyzing every last detail of something for potential problematic tropes or other problematic content. I just don’t know where I fall, because I both agree and disagree with various parts of these stances, but see how all could be taken too far and used poorly, if that’s a sensible way of wording it. But I don’t know what dictates “too

4/4 far”, so I’ve never voiced a definitive opinion on the matter. I hope this makes sense, it’s a bit more jumbled than I had intended.

total sense!

death of the author is such an interesting concept, purely bc how it was MEANT to be used and how it has come to be used are so different. for transparency, death of the author is a lens of examining a piece of work which states that the author’s original intent does not matter, that the metatextual elements of a work do not have any bearing on what is actually present in the text.

to use an example, fans of spop will likely know that adora and catra are at least somewhat inspired by noelle stevenson’s own relationship. since we know this, we can see this in the text. the more you know about noelle and molly, the more you can see what parts of their relationship influenced those characters. we don’t have to guess that catradora is meant to be viewed in a positive light - we’re told by the showrunner itself it should be. if we were to apply death of the author, though, we would ignore this. it is not written explicitly in the text, and is therefore metatextual. we can still come to the same conclusion based on information within the show itself, but we would not use that “word of god” type of information.

and you can do this with basically anything. an artist said their song is about romantic love, but you see it as platonic love? claim death of the author! once it’s out in the world, it’s up to the audience to decide what a piece means.

now, here’s where it gets tricky: you can’t just ignore bigotry in a piece, even if you are applying death of the author. let’s look at hp lovecraft for this one. anyone with even passing knowledge of lovecraftian horror will know that the main element of it is fear of the unknown. sure, there’s many ways you can interpret that within the text! but fact of the matter is that lovecraft was a horrible xenophobic racist. and knowing that, it becomes very hard to separate the “fear of the unknown” in lovecraft’s work from real world xenophobia. you can still claim that within the text you interpret it differently, sure. but you can’t go so far as to pretend the intent isn’t there. the author’s interpretation doesn’t have to be yours, but it’s impossible to separate the author’s worldview from the text - it’s baked in.

okay, so, interpret however you want, but acknowledge prejudice. easy enough. until we get to the elephant in the room, joanne rowling herself. now, we know she has horrible ideas baked into her text. but that doesn’t necessarily mean we throw it all away, right? after all, people still love lovecraft’s work, and he was horrible. there’s an entire horror genre coined after the man. if we don’t throw lovecraft away, why throw joanne away? and the big difference there is that...joanne is alive. and wealthy. with friends in high places. and a large public following. even when he was alive, lovecraft didn’t exactly have millions of followers on twitter. pablo neruda and yukio mishima were not good people, but again, also dead and not with the same level of power. meanwhile joanne is actively using her wealth and following to influence british lawmakers.

and here’s where people lose death of the author. bc yes, you can still examine harry potter however you want. you can still say the books were an influence or that they meant something to you. but you cannot use “death of the author” to substitute an answer to a moral dilemma. and the moral dilemma is simply that supporting joanne, be it by word of mouth or monetarily, is supporting her ability to spread transphobia. this is why we see a more active push than usual to stop consuming hp and related rowling works. the driving force is not just “thing bad”, but the active harm joanne is causing to trans people in the uk.

so, what does that all mean? basically, use death of the author responsibly. you don’t have to toss out every single problematic work ever penned. if we did that, we wouldn’t have much left, and the foundations upon which modern media were built would be gone. but, you also can’t say that you don’t have to acknowledge biases and prejudice in media. bc you still do. there’s not a filmmaker in hollywood who can claim they’re not using some amount of technique pioneered by alfred hitchcock, but we also can’t pretend like “psycho” didn’t have transphobic undertones. it’s possible to both appreciate “psycho” for its importance to film history AND acknowledge those problematic elements without beating them to death.

basically, if you’re thinking of applying death of the author, you need to ask yourself two questions:

-am i using this to analyze the work, or am i trying to make myself feel better? -is my consumption of this work allowing the creator to cause harm?

if you’re trying to make yourself feel better, you don’t need death of the author; being aware of the problems within the work is sufficient. and if your answer to the second question is “yes”, that’s when you need to wonder if your consumption of said work is really more important than the harm you may be inadvertently causing.

bc it feels wrong to not include them, lindsay ellis has two wonderful videos on death of the author, which i will link to below (as well as a video on transphobia in pop culture, which i sort of touched on here, that helps give a better sense of how you can consume and even admire problematic media while acknowledging its flaws)

Death of the Author

Death of the Author 2: Rowling Boogaloo

Tracing the Roots of Pop Culture Transphobia

tldr: death of the author is a great tool to analyze media, but all too often gets used as an answer to a moral dilemma when that was never its intended purpose. you can invoke death of the author without ignoring problematic elements of a work, you don’t have to self-flagellate over said problematic elements, but be aware of if your consumption of a work causes active harm to people.

[stupidsexyfandom]

Armistice

@helsa-summer-event

Rated T // Drama, Modern AU

The gang engage in a classic beat-the-heat activity for people who don’t have central air: going to the movies.

Written for Prompt #5 of Helsa Summer: We’re cool in the summer. 

“Come to the movies with me and Kristoff.”

“I thought you said it was too hot to do anything?” Hans smiled against the phone. He had long ceased to be surprised by Anna calling him up out of the blue to hang out, despite their messy breakup a year before. What he was not expecting was to be invited on a movie date with her new boyfriend. Something else had to be going on.

“I meant that it was too hot to do anything else. The theaters are air-conditioned, and the matinee tickets are cheap. Plus, I hear they have those deluxe reclining seats.” Anna acted oblivious to his probing. It was more likely that she was deliberately avoiding his unasked question.

“Don’t you have any other friends?” He kept his tone light and teasing.

“Well, yeah, but they’re all couples, and I don’t want Elsa to be uncomfortable. I don’t want her thinking this is a date thing.” Ah, there it was. Translation: Kristoff and I want to participate in the storied summer tradition of making out like teenagers in the dark, and I don’t want Elsa to see. Other couples would surely tip her off.

Hans sighed overdramatically and said, with faux grandiosity, “Fine. I will chaperone the chaperone while you and Kristoff get up to whatever it is you kids get up to these days. All I ask in return is a simple cone of Carvel ice cream, given to me at a prearranged time after the showing.”

“Thanks, gramps. You know, it’s a real wonder that you’re my only single friend.” He could hear Anna giggling through her sarcasm.

“Wonder no longer, for the truth is that I am simply too cool for all of you.”

“Sure, whatever you have to tell yourself. We’re seeing the latest Star Wars. Meet us in the parking lot at 4.”

-

It really is too hot to do anything else, thought Hans as he walked across the parking lot. Heat radiated up from the asphalt, the air shimmering with humidity. He saw the others standing by Kristoff’s truck, looking ready to wilt. Anna and Kristoff were dressed casually, seemingly taking their not-a-date act seriously. Elsa looked overdressed in comparison, out of place in her sleeveless button-up.

“Hey, Hans,” Anna called to him. He raised a hand in greeting. Kristoff gave him a friendly nod, while Elsa made no acknowledgement that she had even seen him.

“Hey, guys. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting?”

“No, we just got here,” said Anna, “Let’s go inside, I can’t stand to be out here any longer.”

They purchased their tickets and made their way to the appointed theater. Kristoff filed into their row first, then Anna, then Hans. Elsa sat next to him at the end of the row. Almost as soon as they had sat down, the lights dimmed.

As the trailers played, Hans was keenly aware of Elsa next to him. She perched on the edge of her seat, ignoring the reclining function. Hans figured he had better do the same so she could not look past him to the end of the row. She seemed ill at ease. Even in the darkness, he could see her white hands fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. He wondered if she was ever able to relax. Beside him, Kristoff had already pulled Anna into his lap. Their attention was clearly not on the screen. It seemed to Hans this rather defeated the purpose of coming to the movie theater to cool down, but what did he know?

Just after the opening crawl, he heard Elsa hiss, “I’m getting popcorn.” She stood up abruptly. Hans did the same, attempting to shield Kristoff and Anna from view. The sudden movement filled his vision with white. Let it never be said that he did not take his role of chaperone seriously. He followed her out of the theater.

When they reached the lobby, Elsa did not join the concessions line. Instead she kept walking out onto the sidewalk. The sun beat down on them, and Hans was instantly too hot. She whirled to face him, looking irritated.

“Look, I don’t need a babysitter!”

“A babysitter?” Hans feigned innocence.

“I know Anna wasn’t expecting me to say yes when she asked me to come. She thinks that just because I’ve never has a boyfriend, I don’t know what she and Kristoff are up to. I know, and I don’t care. But I do care that you keep hanging around my sister. How dare you, after what you did to her?”

Ah, he should have figured. Anna had never been one to hold a grudge. She may have given him a whopper of a black eye, but they had managed to awkwardly patch up their differences. It might even be said that they were now friends. Elsa was a different story. She had always come off as restrained, but Hans had suspected that a quiet intensity lay beneath the surface. The thrill of being proven right paled in comparison to the discomfort of being the recipient of her ire.

“Anna invited me here. We’ve worked things out.”

“Unfortunately for both of us, Westergaard, Anna is a far better person than I will ever be. That’s why you need to stay away from her!” A few wisps of hair had escaped from Elsa’s updo. They glowed golden in the light of the late afternoon sun. It struck him that she was very beautiful when she was angry, but he pushed the thought away. For one thing, Elsa was always beautiful. For another, that information was really, really not helpful or relevant right then.

“I’m sorry about what I did to her— to both of you. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. But all I can do is try to be better and to leave the past in the past. I hope you can give me that chance.”

“This isn’t about me. I can leave behind your petty games. I can leave behind the way you tried to snipe that internship out from under me. I can even forget how you spread rumors that I was having a nervous breakdown and should be ejected from the program.” Hans wanted to retort that the rumors had mostly been spread by Duke Weselton, and anyway, wasn’t the nervous breakdown thing true? But the past year had taught him that sometimes the snappiest response was not the best one. Half the battle of becoming a nicer person was just keeping his mouth shut.

Instead he said, “But you did get that internship. All I got was academic probation, which I’ve only now been removed from. I’m sorry that I hurt you, but I don’t know what else I can do.”

“I told you, I’m over it. But I can’t leave behind the way you used my sister because you thought our name would further your career. I can’t forget how cruel you were when you dumped her. And I’ll never forget how you left her at that party afterwards, drunk and alone. She could have died! Thank God Kristoff was there. He had to take her to the ER!” Elsa’s voice had risen, the tension between them as palpable as the humid air. Hans felt his own temper coming to a boil. His flaw in arguments had always been escalating to match the other person.

“I didn’t realize it was her first college party, and I certainly didn’t realize she had drunk so much! Yes, I shouldn’t have said those things to her. But it’s not like I was her only reason to get wasted. You never did her any good. She was so lonely because you were never around! She was always telling me how you never answered her calls. She invited you that night, and for once she thought you were really going to come. But you weren’t there!” Hans regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. If half of not being a jerk was shutting up, the other half was taking responsibility for his own actions, and he had just blown both in one shot. Elsa stared up at him with such anguish in her eyes that it almost hurt to look at her. She reacted like an injured wildcat.

“You say that like it makes you any better! Yeah, I may be barely holding it together, and I may be failing Anna in every way that matters! But at least I’m not an asshole like you!” She looked close to the breaking point both physically and emotionally, as if she might collapse at any moment. Hans fought the sudden urge to reach out and comfort her. She might seem helpless in the moment, but he knew she would sooner bite off his head than cry on his shoulder.

“Elsa, I didn’t mean—” But her pain had been replaced by cold fury.

“Save it, Westergaard. I need to cool down. Here’s what’s going to happen. I will leave Anna and Kristoff to their covert activities, and I suggest you do the same. But first, I’m going inside for fifteen seconds to splash some water on my face. When I come back out, you had better not be here.” Elsa’s voice was cool and sharp as ice.

“Don’t you at least want to see the rest of the movie?” said Hans, although he was certain this situation was beyond saving. Elsa gave a harsh laugh.

“Hardly. I read the spoilers online, and I have no desire to watch Kylo Ren get redeemed on the big screen.”

“So you don’t believe in redemption? Not even for love?”

“People don’t change, Westergaard. Not through love, and not through death. Some things can never be forgiven.” And then she was gone, the theater door slammed shut in his face.

Hans did not want to see what would happen if he ignored her directive, so he walked to the grocery store next door. Through the front window, he watched Elsa emerge from the theater and storm into the Carvel across the parking lot. She sat at the counter with only a water, her head in her hands. After watching her for a few minutes, he decided to kill time until the movie ended. He walked up and down every aisle, fantasizing about climbing into a freezer case. The air conditioning and the familiar surroundings eventually calmed him down.

When he felt enough time had passed, he made his way back to the cinema. He slipped into the back row of the theater to catch the tail end of the movie. As the credits rolled, he met up with Anna and Kristoff outside the door to the lobby.

“Did you guys like the movie?” he asked, “What did you think of the part where they revealed Palpatine was merely a puppet controlled by Obi-wan Kenobi?”

“It was great,” said Kristoff at the same time as Anna said, “Palpatine was in this movie?” They stared at him blankly until he started laughing.

“Oh, the looks on your faces! Speaking of which, Kristoff, you’ve got a little something…” He gestured vaguely at his face. Kristoff wiped away a smear of lip gloss as Anna giggled.

“Where’s Elsa?” she asked, “I thought you were together?”

“She’s at Carvel. I’m afraid we had a bit of a blowout. I’m not exactly her favorite person. I’d better take a raincheck on that ice cream; I don’t think she wants to see me right now.”

“Oh no! I’d better go make sure she’s all right. I’m sorry about the ice cream, Hans. Next time!” She raced out of the theater, Kristoff trailing behind her. Hans watched through the window as they comforted Elsa. Although he remained in the cinema, his mind drifted back to the earlier argument. Christ, he really had behaved like an ass. By the time the trio had finished their ice cream, he realized he had been standing there too long. He made his way towards the door.

“Excuse me, sir!” He turned. One of the cinema employees was approaching him, waving something in her hand.

“Your girlfriend left these in the rest room.”

“She’s not my…” But Hans shut his mouth when he saw the medicine bottle he had been handed. As he read the name of the drug, several things dropped into place. He thought he understood now why she seemed so anxious all the time, why she rarely went out, why she didn’t answer her sister’s calls.

-

They met the next day on neutral ground, in the movie theater parking lot. The weather was cool and gray after the rain the night before. Elsa was already there when Hans pulled in, standing next to her car. There was still something stiff and formal about her appearance, but today it was softened by the voluminous braid over her shoulder. She looked as if she hadn’t slept.

“Give it to me,” she said as soon as he stepped out of the car. He produced the bottle from his pocket and handed it over. She snatched it from his grasp as if she were afraid he was going to pull it away at any moment.

“What do you want? Money? I can’t give you much, Anna will be suspicious if I withdraw from our trust account. Academic help? I can’t write your papers; they’ll know my writing style. But I can proofread and do your literature review. Or is it pull you want? I can speak to the dean, get the probation taken off your transcript. I’ll say I made it all up. Or I can talk to the board of my father’s company, I’m sure they’ll have a job offer for you. I’ll do anything you want, so long as you don’t tell anybody. Well, almost anything.” She wrapped her arms around her chest, protecting herself from some imagined fate. Hans was baffled.

“What? I don’t want any of that.”

“So you’re just going to tell everybody? My boss, the dean, my advisor? You won’t even give me a chance to buy your silence?”

“No, I’m not going to tell anybody,” he insisted. Did she seriously think he was about to blackmail her?

“Right, because I’m willing to cooperate. But you have to tell me what it is you want.” Her eyes were pleading, and she fidgeted anxiously with her hands.

“Elsa, I promise I’m not trying to blackmail you.”

“You’re not?” Her fidgeting stopped abruptly.

“No! God, no. What made you think that?”

“Your text. It was a bit cryptic.” She seemed more relaxed now, almost bordering on exhausted.

“I wasn’t sure if Anna knew, so I didn’t want to be specific.” In all the times they had discussed her sister, Anna had never mentioned Elsa’s illness. Considering how much she talked about her, Hans found it unlikely that it just never came up.

“I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. I know it sounds paranoid, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about the rumors last time. I couldn’t go through that again. And I was so certain that you hated me enough, especially after yesterday.”

“I don’t hate you. I never hated you” Hans leaned against his car, waiting for her answer. After a few moments, she leaned next to him.

“You were right yesterday,” she said, “I’ve never done Anna any good. I couldn’t even protect her from you. You know, when you started dating, I saw the red flags. I thought, ‘What’s this grad student doing with a freshman?’ But I ignored it. I thought that you might be a more stable presence in her life. I thought that even if there was something up with you, it couldn’t be worse than me.”

“Look how that turned out,” said Hans wryly. They stood silently for what could have been a split second or an eternity.

“Anna doesn’t know,” said Elsa suddenly.

“Hm?”

“You said you weren’t sure if she knew. She doesn’t.”

“Don’t you think you should tell her?”

“I don’t know how. That night in the ER, I was so scared. I thought I was going to lose her. And I realized something had to change. If something happened, I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I had spent my whole life pushing her away. She’s all I have, and I love her dearly. It’s been hard this past year. I’ve been trying to let her in, but I don’t know how to do it without hurting her. And I don’t know if she can ever forgive me for what’s already happened. I wasn’t there when she needed me most.”

“I think we can agree,” said Hans, “that I have turned out to cause Anna far more harm than you have. But you’ve seen how readily she has forgiven me. If she can do that, I’m sure you won’t have any trouble. After all, she loves you.”

“I hope you’re right.” Hans reached out tentatively and patted her shoulder. She stiffened momentarily, but then she relaxed into the touch.

“Anyway,” he said, “you are not an asshole like me.” Elsa seemed surprised to find herself laughing, and Hans found himself joining in.

When she had pulled away from the car, Elsa said, “You know this doesn’t make us friends.”

“I would never dare to suggest such a thing. All I ask is this: truce?”

“Truce,” she replied decisively.

“Well,” he said, straightening up, “in honor of our newly-signed armistice agreement, I propose we go see a movie.”

“All right,” she agreed, “but only if we get ice cream afterwards.”

-

“Well, Elsa, what did you think? Did it make a case for the redemptive power of love?”

“I will concede that love is powerful enough to motivate change for the better. But change isn’t instantaneous. Redemption is a long process. You have to work for it, and it has to be earned time and time again. Death is just a lazy shorthand, and it’s bad writing.”

“You want to talk bad writing, what about my man General Hux? The guy just switched sides in the third act with no warning. The foreshadowing was nonexistent because they were too intent on fooling the audience. It was just a plot twist for the sake of a plot twist, more for shock value than because it added anything to the story. That’s bad writing.”

“I don’t know, I kind of liked him.”

“Either you’re saying that to be contrary or you just have a thing for redheads.”

“I am not being contrary!”

“So you like redheads, then?”

“I don’t!”

“You answered too quickly.”

“I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did.”

“Look, are we getting ice cream or not?”

***

Author’s Note: Modern AU is something I thought I would never write. But I did say I was apologizing today. Unfortunately, this did not turn out as light and fluffy as I had hoped. Some apology, huh? At least you got some Star Wars references out of it. Thank you all so much for reading! <3

[widowsofchaos]

Kool Aid (Teaser)

Summary: Raise a glass for all your fucked up friends. After a near-fatal night of drug binging, the group disbanded for a while to get sober, and mentally healthy; but it also resulted in you breaking up with your boyfriend and girlfriend. The journey of recovery was rocky. Now after a year and a half, the group of friends reunite at a party, will the band of misfits stick together or go their separate ways? Will you get your two loves back or will you have to move on?

Pairing: Winterwitch x black!reader

Modern AU

Warnings: drug abuse, vulgarity, mentions of domestic abuse, childhood abuse, mentions of mental health. Mention of abortion. smut, angst, and fluff!

DO NOT REPOST MY WORKS! I WILL REPORT YOU.

“You know Bean would have been two today.” Bucky hanged his head, huffing out a breathy chuckle. A few loose strands gingerly dangle, and you had to bite back the itching urge to caress it behind his ear. Your palm shrouding behind your thigh, curling into a tight fist, fingernails tearing into the flesh; crescent craters forming.

Pain is your comfort, you pray for a dark hole to emerge underneath the soles of your feet, and swallow you whole. Hide away in pitch blackness, as your demons’ horse whips dominion onto your chipped soul. Don’t let these two crawl back into your shattered chest, and make a thorn-infested nest in your heart.

Not again.

You’re a nobody, your value is worth a bucket of piss. Your role in their relationship was a erotic tryst, a bored couple seeking a warm body to use, to fulfill - what exactly? To relish in taboo thrills?

Slithering into your life, a child deprived of affection, seeks for it blindly to satiate the loneliness. It was magical at first, double the love. Worshiping at their feet, praises leave your lips, that finally you were deemed worthy for love. But at what cost? The wool isn’t drenched in your tears, but in your blood. You’ve gauged your eyes out in denial from the truth, not only did your demons win, but so did theirs.

“My silly little girl” your mother’s condescending drunken slurs echo in your brain. When it was over, a piece of you was abandoned with them. Withered and died like weeds splashed in pesticide, it’s taken you a lifetime to gain a glimmer of feeling human. Perhaps resuscitate the little girl who bathed in innocence, or maybe it’s too late?

A tight smile curls at the corner of your mouth, you bobble a bit as you lean forward, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Acidic bile bubbles at the back of your esophagus, at the dejected memory, you dryly swallow the lump forming in your throat, “Yeah … two years and three months old to be exact”, trapping your quivering bottom lip between your teeth, shifting back into a rigid faux smile.

God, has it been that long?

“Do you regret it?” Bucky murmured, lifting his gaze to you, and his breath hitches. Before his eyes, is his girl, Wanda’s girl, fighting back her emotions. Bucky can read you like an open-book, a transparent display. He knows you’re hurting, even after a year, that Wanda and himself caused, succumbing to their insecurities, and lashing out at the one being who loved them with every fiber, and sinew.

He loathes that you’re harboring your woes, begging to lash out at him, and Wanda. For pushing you away, when you needed them the most. Bucky yearns for you to snarl at him, scream at him, hurl insults at him, call him a cowardly piece of shit. Call Wanda a bitch, anything for you to release yourself. Hyper-aware of your history to bury all your sorrow, and pretend nothing is wrong. You either write your grief through ink, or wrap it up in soil cloth, and bury it deep in your rotted cavity - and find your salvation at the bottom of the bottle.

“No. Do you?” you mumbled, casting your eyes away from Bucky’s intense gaze. You missed his faltered curt smile, transitioning into a frown, his cerulean eyes watering, you can’t even look him in the eye. Please doll, look at me. See I never stopped loving you.

“No. It was for the best” Bucky hedges, “we’re fucked up, we could never do right by it.” 

A soft snort escapes you, “I know, who would want two drunks for mothers?” Your body loosens a bit, a quick glance in his eyes. A beat of silence, Bucky knew you were attempting to lighten the awkward atmosphere, through your traditional route of dark humor.

“Or a coked out hot-tempered father?” Bucky sheepishly smiled at you, rubbing the nape of his neck, despite his shy smile, you knew what Bucky was hinting at, acknowledging his fault, the very flaw that casted you out from their lives.

“Thank you for being there for me at the time. You and Wanda weren’t olibgate-” Bucky interrupted your babble, “Hey, we wanted it to be there, it took three to tango, remember?” Bucky’s heart aches, how could you think we wouldn’t want to be there. We love you, oh God, we love you.

“I know, it’s just …”, You shift your head to the side, your shoulder moves in natural reflex, gesturing your modesty.

“I know, it’s okay.” Bucky whispered, unconsciously treading small steps towards you, towering over you. A timid smile forms, and Bucky’s heart flutters. God, how Wanda and himself gush over your smile, dying to crawl through, and just live inside you. The shining star in their darkness.

Bucky internally winces, You have no idea, how you changed us, doll.

“Bean, fitting for when we last saw it…” Your chest fluttered, those saccharine bits of staring at the ultrasound flashed before you, you sniffed back a sob. It’s bittersweet - a dash of sour on what couldn’t be, a tang of citrus sweet to see what you had, a fleeting possibility. Become a mother? No, you had to learn to be a daughter. But even you fail at that.

“Yeah, I remember the ultrasound, God, it was so weird. How a being can start off so small, yet can grow so big.” Bucky mused, misty-eyed. Bucky shuffled, attempting to disguise his dismay at the lingering what if?

“I think back on that day a lot …” Bucky continued, “ I like to imagine if we kept it … would it be a boy or a girl? Would it come out looking like me or like you?” Bucky instinctively linked his fingers into yours, and without a doubt, felt the familiar sparks zap into your core.

“I would like to be a dad, especially for a girl. Girls rule the world, can teach her lessons on life …” Bucky’s eyes frayed desperation, longingly into yours dark hues.

“You would make a great parents” Not us, you. A silent indirect of you pushing them away, no purpose in their plans for the future. How you yearn, but the past can not be dug up, let the cadaver rot. And pray flowers can bloom within the decay, hope. Hope for Wanda, and Bucky to be happy at last, and hope you can bare to live without them.